


It's a simple life for you and me

by Menfinske



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bookstores, Polygamy, Rated T for later chapters, Slow Build, emphasis on Athos/d'Artagnan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-21 22:06:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 54,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3705957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menfinske/pseuds/Menfinske
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>D'Artagnan has always had a simple life. He's the owner of a small bookstore in an equally small town. And he's bored.<br/>Then, one day, three men move into town. His life might just take a turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The welcoming committee

D’Artagnan had a simple life really. He runs a small bookstore in a small town, by himself though he sometimes asks his friends for help, and he has his own small apartment in that same small town. Nothing ever happens. Nothing ever will happen. And though he’s content most of the time, he’s also.. well.. bored.  
When new people moved into town, it was always a reason to gossip. Everyone knew about them before they even met a single person. But now it was slightly different. As in, everyone was already talking about them before they even actually bought the house. They were three men romantically involved, or so the rumour was. Whether it’s actually true, well, d’Artagnan will see for himself before he believes it.  
His mother had called him for tea in the three musketeers, the local bar/diner/meeting spot. Of course she ordered him a slice of cake as well, because what else would his mother do.  
“Do you maybe have some time tomorrow?” she asks after the casualties and small talk. It was a Sunday tomorrow and d’Artagnan had learned pretty quickly after moving back (he’d studied in Paris) that it was no use opening a shop on Sundays, unlike what he was used to back in the hustle of the city.  
“Yeah. What do you need?” he asks.  
“I was to welcome three men who’ve moved into town tomorrow, show them around and all, but I’m otherwise preoccupied. I was hoping you could maybe introduce them here for me?” His mother was in the welcoming committee. D’Artagnan had never wanted much to do with it, but he cringes at the mere thought of putting his mother’s friends with the, if rumours are correct, polygamous, gay men. So he nods.  
“Sure. What did you arrange?” d’Artagnan asks, even if he has no idea what he should do. There’s a supermarket, another supermarket, the three musketeers, the flower shop, his own book shop, and a few clothing shops. Oh and a church. They’d hardly need his help.  
“To meet them at 1 o’clock at their house,” she ends it in a question and d’Artagnan agrees. 

He’s slightly late, as his mother had called him at the last moment to check if he didn’t forget and then drawled a bit. He knocks on the door after not finding a bell and a man with curly hair, reaching to his shoulders, the strangest beard d’Artagnan has ever seen and brown eyes opens the door with a wide smile.  
“Here’s our welcoming committee,” he says, opening the door further for d’Artagnan to come in. there are indeed two more men inside. One has tight packed curls, a darker skin, a beard, moustache and a larger smile even than the one who’d opened the door. He’s also a very large man. D’Artagnan spares a moment to wonder if the man is a bodybuilder. But then he’d probably wear some tight fitting shirt instead of a loose, woollen sweater. And then there’s another man, who’d previously been leaning against the larger man, that man’s hand slung around his chest, while reading a book. He marks the book before looking at d’Artagnan. He’s got dark blonde hair, that looks as if he just couldn’t be bothered to take care of it, with blue eyes. He has a beard and a moustache as well, and d’Artagnan can see a scar on his top lip where no hair grows. That man isn’t smiling.  
“Hi, I’m d’Artagnan. Welcome to Gascony,” he introduces himself.  
“Aramis. This over here is Porthos and that’s Athos,” the curly haired one says, pointing to the large man and then the unkempt one. D’Artagnan finds himself at a loss at what to say.  
“Well, I was to show you guys around. So if you’ll follow me?” Aramis chuckles.  
“You don’t normally do this, do you?” he asks.  
“That obvious, huh? No, I don’t. I try and keep away from the welcoming committee as much as I can usually. But my mother was to show you around and she was preoccupied at the last moment.”  
“A committee usually exists of more than person,” Athos says.  
“Well, yes there are,” he says, trying to avoid the subject more.  
“If you don’t want to have anything to do with it and there are more, surely someone else could’ve done it?” he points out. D’Artagnan just barely refrains from glaring at him.  
“Well, yes, I suppose so. I..” he stops for just a moment, but nobody stops him or gives him anything else to talk about. “This is a small town, if you hadn’t noticed. Rumours have been spreading about you since you first walked in here to check out the house. I figured I’d save you from the rest of the welcoming committee. My mother is just too sweet for her own good, the other ones are only there for the gossip,” he says without specifying what made him go for it.  
“And allow me a guess. The gossip is about our relation?” Aramis asks. D’Artagnan is pretty sure he’s blushing like hell, especially when Aramis’ chuckle returns and Porthos laughs quite loudly.  
“No worries. We’re used to it,” Porthos says, clapping him on his back. D’Artagnan doesn’t know how to continue at all. So he just turns his back on them and walks out the door and into the main street of the city. They follow him easily, falling into step behind him. d’Artagnan figures out the most important thing is the supermarket.  
“It’ll depend on yourself which supermarket you visit. Personally I prefer the other one, considering it’s cheaper and calmer, and both aren’t far off but if you care about people thinking you are very classy and have plenty of money to waste, you can go to this one. Otherwise, the other one is there, just down the street,” he points, considering you can actually see it from here.  
“It’s closed,” Porthos notes with a hint of surprise.  
“Yeah. Small town. No shops on Sunday. Don’t forget to do groceries on Saturday. I’ve repeatedly have had to beg my mom because I forgot,” d’Artagnan sighs.  
“Didn’t you grow up here?” Aramis asks.  
“Well, yes. But my that’s when I still lived with her and I didn’t have to worry about groceries. Then I moved to study in Paris and I’ve lived there for five years. And now I live on my own here and it’s harder than one might think to get reintegrated,” he says.  
“Ah, that explains a lot,” Aramis says with a wide smile as d’Artagnan continues.  
“Okay, so there’s a grand total of one combined diner, bar and meeting spot and it’s called the three musketeers. It’s decent enough, but.. well, let me warn you again.. gossip. Everywhere. I danced on the table once, when I was extremely drunk, and I’ve never heard the end of it. So, watch out over there. Other than that it’s fine. The bartender, a man named Treville, is awesome at the very least,” he says as they continue. They reach the ‘centre’ with all the remaining shops in the same street.  
“Well, there’s a few clothing shops, and there’s the flower shop over there. Oh and you can get pretty much all your necessities at Ninon’s over there,” he points. The store as well as the owner was called Ninon.  
“What about the bookstore? Or is it out of business?” Athos asks.  
“Oh no. It’s open. Or well, not open, obviously. But it is Monday’s to Saturday’s.”  
“You should’ve just said that first. As long as there’s a place grumpy here can read and get drunk he’s happy,” Porthos laughs as he pats ‘grumpy’ on his back.  
“I’d rather prefer it if you didn’t get drunk in my shop, but you’re welcome to visit,” d’Artagnan can’t help a smile.  
“You own it?” Athos inquires.  
“Yep. And I also am the only employee, so if you ever stand before closed door during opening hours you can just give me a call or something. I sometimes close it when there’s nothing to do anyway,” d’Artagnan says. Everyone in town had his number and aside from Constance and Ninon nobody ever entered there for fun. “Well. That’s just about it, I think,” d’Artagnan concludes then.  
“Well, I think you’ve deserved a drink for your trouble. Why don’t you come back to ours?” Porthos offers as Aramis’ smiles widely once again. D’Artagnan spares a moment to wonder how he can manage to smile that much.  
“Sure,” d’Artagnan shrugs. It’s not as if he had anything better to do after all. “What brings you to this town, of all places, if I may ask?”  
“Aramis got a job at the hospital. We moved along,” Porthos replies.  
“So, you’re going to search a job here or back in..?”  
“I’m not tied to a place with my work so I can just continue here,” Porthos replies. D’Artagnan looks at Athos, who seems to take a long moment to notice.  
“I’m not employed,” he says simply. He doesn’t elaborate and d’Artagnan decides not to ask further. He barely knew them after all. They reach their house soon enough and he’s put on the couch with Aramis, while Athos takes a comfy looking chair and Porthos sits on the other couch.  
“Wine or beer?” Aramis calls from the kitchen after having jumped up from the couch.  
“Wine,” d’Artagnan replies. The other two don’t answer, but Aramis comes back with two glasses of wine and two bottles of beer. He hands a bottle to Porthos and a glass to Athos before giving d’Artagnan his glass and taking his beer as well. They talk a bit about what they did before and what they’re planning now that they’re here, except for Athos, he remains silent for the most part. They come upon their relation mostly on accident, but d’Artagnan finds himself curious.  
“But, I mean, don’t get me wrong. But it’s difficult enough to date one person. How did you manage to get by with all three of you?” he asks.  
“Well, Athos didn’t tell you but he used to run a fencing studio. Porthos and I had met on a few occasions before, considering I’m a medic and he’s a fighter. Well, fencing isn’t that popular a sport, so we were basically the only ones there. We bonded over fencing and.. well, there was actually never any negotiating, to be honest. We just.. we fell together. It’s relatively quick still, to already be living together, we’ve been dating for three years now,” Aramis tells. There’s a soft meow and d’Artagnan sees a cat coming from the kitchen. It looks more like a small, cute panther and it walks over lazily.  
“Oh, there you are, Tommie. I was afraid you’d gotten out the window,” Aramis says, scooping the cat up. He jumps out of his arms though and he looks around for a bit before coming to lay on d’Artagnan’s lap.  
“He’s cute,” d’Artagnan announces as he crawls behind his ears. He yawns and cuddles up to him contently.  
“Just like his owner,” Aramis says, winking at Athos.  
“This is your cat?” he asks the man who just looks that tiny bit pinker than before.  
“Yes. Thomas. I’ve had him since he was a kitten six years ago,” he replies, sipping his wine. They sit and talk like that a bit more, but eventually d’Artagnan really has to get moving.  
“I’ll see you around town, maybe,” he says before leaving.


	2. Protecting one's valour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I certainly hadn't expected to get this much response to this story '^^   
> Thanks a lot everyone!!   
> So, the thing is, this is hardly my first story, but it's one I'm very intent on doing right. So if you notice any mistakes or got any things you think I can do better, please don't hesitate to let me know :D I'm really trying to be a better writer. (Also, English is not my first language and while I like to think myself bilingual, it sometimes shows.. So if you see mistakes I repeatedly make, please point it out (A)) 
> 
> Enjoy!

He opens the book shop the same way as usual the next day, and as usual, there’s not a soul wanting to buy a book. Sometimes he wonders just what kind of magic even keeps this business rolling. He’s taken one of the new ordered books from the shelves and is reading it in one of the lounging chairs by the fire when the bell alerts him someone is entering. Looking up, he finds it’s Athos. It’s about two in the afternoon, but it’s winter, so he’s wrapped a scarf around his neck thickly and he’s wearing gloves.   
“Hey,” d’Artagnan greets him. Athos takes the chair opposite to him.   
“You don’t mind if I get warm first?”   
“No, go ahead. It’s on anyway,” he says. “I could even grab you some tea. Water should still be hot?” Athos nods and d’Artagnan puts the book away for a moment to go into the backroom and collect some tea. When he comes back Athos has taken off his scarf and gloves and he’s warming his hands by the fire. D’Artagnan hands him the mug and he eagerly wraps his hands around that instead.   
“Not a winter person, huh?” d’Artagnan inquires.   
“Not even a bit,” comes the answer.   
“I can relate. My mom’s afraid I might burn my head off by how close I sit to the fire,” d’Artagnan confides with a chuckle.   
“Aramis and Porthos always laugh at me. Fortunately, Thomas usually keeps my lap warm at least,” Athos admits. D’Artagnan chuckles. They sit for a while after that, neither talking but neither uncomfortable. Athos gets up to grab a book after a while and they read in silence as well. At the end of the day he buys the book he’d been reading before going home. 

The rest of the month continues in much the same fashion. He lives his life. He runs the store. Athos walks in just about every other day, sometimes just reading but quite often buying a book as well. Aramis comes in a few time during lunch breaks. Porthos comes by as well. Not as often as Aramis but he stays longer. D’Artagnan, as owner of a store and son of his mother, gets quite a bit of the gossip. Apparently Porthos was a professional wrestler, and he had a match coming up. Aramis was quite charming, not that d’Artagnan couldn’t have picked that up himself. There’s a lot of rumours about their relation as well. A lot of them are gossiping over how long they’d been together. Nobody but d’Artagnan seemed to know the answer to it though, and d’Artagnan remained silent about it. But nobody in town seemed to know anything about Athos. They knew he spent a lot of time in the bookstore and, well, in a town like this, it was hard for him to hide how much wine he purchased and probably also drank.   
“He’s just so.. I don’t know. I know Ninon thinks he’s mysterious, but I think he’s rather arrogant. He always pretends you’re not good enough to even glance his way, he never even greets you and he’s just parading here like he owns the place. And he doesn’t even have a job! How can he even afford all the alcohol he drinks down,” d’Artagnan isn’t listening, he’s putting the new order that came in on the shelves. The lady talking, Madame de la Chapelle, had bought a book earlier, but as d’Artagnan had expected it had been to get him to open up about Athos. He wasn’t even really listening.   
“I would advise you to talk to him about it, then, rather than me,” he replies despite that. He’s taking as long as he possibly can stacking the books, hoping to get to go away for his lack of attention. She’s not taking the hint though.   
“He spends so much time here, I’m sure you could get him to be at least reasonable? Or at least tell me how to contact him. Maybe I can speak to him sometime?” d’Artagnan sighs and leans his head against the shelf without her noticing.  
“Madame, I’m really sorry, but he spends enough time here and at the musketeers that you could just walk up to him and ask his number yourself. It’s hardly my place to intervene if he wants his privacy,” d’Artagnan speaks slowly.   
“Yes, but you’re the only one in town who has it. What would your mother think about it if you hid this information? What if something happens and we need to call him?”   
“Then my mother knows very well how to contact Aramis and Porthos,” d’Artagnan finally turns around, startled to see Athos standing in the corner. He hadn’t heard the bell, thanks to his lovely visitor *cough*, and that Athos had learned to avoid it from making too much noise quickly.   
“And what if they’re not with him?”  
“Then I can call him as well. But if you really do want his number so badly, maybe turn around instead,” he says. she turns and her eyes grow big at the realization he’s standing there.   
“My apologies, monsieur,” she says, though it hardly sounds like she means it. More as if she’s calculating how to best approach him.   
“As you so kindly pointed out, I don’t do well with other people. I trust that Aramis, Porthos or d’Artagnan himself here would personally enlighten me if there’s something I really want to know,” he has a polite smile, one d’Artagnan can easily recognize as fake, forced.   
“That’s not how it works in this town, monsieur..?”   
“Athos will do.”  
“We are a tight community. We need to be able to contact each other.”  
“And you can contact me. Just not through phone unless it’s via either of these men,” Athos stands his ground and d’Artagnan watches the proceedings with a smirk.   
“But-“  
“Madame de la Chappele, it seems that he’s not interested in giving you his number. I would kindly request you to stop pressing him about it. You’re in my shop and he’s as much a costumer here as you are,” he interrupts her. She glares at him, then at Athos and then she leaves.  
“Your mother will hear about this,” she says before leaving.   
“She really reminds me of Malfoy sometimes. It’s always the threat: your mother will hear about this, when I don’t give her what she wants,” he says, then shakes his head and looks at the man in front of him. “I hadn’t heard you come in,” he says.   
“I’d figured as much,” he replies with a small smile. D’Artagnan was happy to see that during the month he’d known the man he could count himself as one of the lucky four who ever received that smile. Aramis, Porthos and Treville got it as well.   
“Tea?” he offers.   
“No, I have to be on my way in a bit. I came here to offer you dinner at our place tonight? Aramis makes the best lasagne you’ve ever had, I’m sure,” he says.   
“Oh, yeah, that’d be great,” he says with a smile.   
“Very well. I’ll give him a call then,” he says with an amused twinkle in both his eyes and his voice. D’Artagnan chuckles as Athos nods his goodbye. 

D’Artagnan finds himself on their doorstep after he’s closed the shop and got into his more comfortable shirt. He wears blouses to keep up a somewhat professional look while in the shop, but he thinks them rather uncomfortable. It’s Porthos who opens the door with a wide smile this time. D’Artagnan can scent the lasagne pretty heavily and it smells very good. D’Artagnan smiles widely himself as he enters their apartment. Aramis was sitting on one couch and he greets d’Artagnan with a wide smile. Athos was nowhere in sight.   
“D’Artagnan! How nice to see you,” Aramis says.   
“Hey, ‘Mis,” he greets the other man, taking a spot on the empty second couch.   
“Athos told me you protected his valour bravely today,” Aramis sounds as if he’s laughed about it quite a bit.   
“I wouldn’t quite call it that. More that I protected him from the evil witch,” d’Artagnan replies in good humour. Porthos holds up a bottle of wine and d’Artagnan nods.   
“That’d be another way to describe it. As I hear it, she is quite evil after all,” Porthos says when he comes back. “She never refrains from glaring at me. Obviously she doesn’t think much of wrestlers.”   
“She doesn’t think much of anyone but herself. She even hates Treville,” d’Artagnan rolls his eyes. He knew the other two liked Treville as well, considering they’d shared a drink between the four of them in the musketeers nearly every day.   
“Oh well. Fortunately we can live with the glares, although it’s quite new to live in such a gossipy town,” Aramis says, shrugging casually. There’s a creak on the stairs before d’Artagnan can answer and Athos walks into the room a moment later. He smiles and nods at d’Artagnan before coming to sit on the other end of the couch he sat on.   
“You’ve gotten settled well?” he asks.   
“Yeah. I like the people here, gossipy as they are. It makes for a lot of enthusiasm and never a silent moment too long at the hospital. Paris was a lot different,” Aramis says.   
“Yeah, as long as you evade the evil witches,” Porthos laughs, “Did I even tell you? Your mother is the most wonderful woman in the world.”  
“How so?” he asks with a wide smile.   
“I ran into her the day before yesterday. I had a bloody nose, nothing too bad. She immediately insisted on taking care of me. Makes really delicious soup,” d’Artagnan chuckles.  
“The best in all of France. Though I’ll be the first to admit it gets a little less.. appealing after eating it every day for most of my life,” this makes them both chuckle as well and Athos’ lips are curled up further than usual. Aramis turns on the TV and zaps until he reaches a comedy. A ding from the kitchen alerts them the lasagne is ready.   
“I’ll get it,” Porthos offers, keeping Aramis down before he can get up. There were heat plates on the table already and there’s plates and cutlery too. Porthos serves them all before sitting back with Aramis.   
“Mh, this is delicious. You weren’t exaggerating Athos,” d’Artagnan says after two bites.   
“He rarely ever does,” Porthos chuckles. “But yes, Aramis’ lasagne is hard to believe. Almost makes you think he’s from Italy in the flesh,” Aramis chuckles as well.   
“Ah, my friend, you’re still wrong. My heritage hasn’t changed since last time you asked.”   
“You do have an accent though?” d’Artagnan asks.   
“Indeed. I fear it’s Spanish and not Italian though,” he says casually. “My mother was Spanish. Father was French. They met in Spain and I grew up there but then he missed France too much and convinced mama to move back here.”   
They just sit and relax after that and d’Artagnan finds him there until far after midnight. He stumbles into his own empty apartment at 3.30 AM and he groans softly. He’s drunk, he’s late and he’s got a shop to run in the morning. He buries his head in his pillow and tries to will himself back into the past. Although he doubts it would end differently. The three men had turned out to be his closest friends and d’Artagnan enjoyed their company thoroughly.


	3. Rumours or just secrets?

He’s opened the shop only an hour late the next day, though he almost finds himself glaring at people passing by. He refrains. But just barely. He’s hungover, he’s tired and, for the first time in his life, he actually feels lonely.  
Despite his pain, sensitivity and lack of sleep he finds himself smiling when Athos walks into the shop. He’s hungover as well, judging by the careful way he avoids the bell and walks over to the chair unoccupied by d’Artagnan. They sit like that, both silent, for a long time.  
“Tea?” d’Artagnan doesn’t bother forming a sentence. Doesn’t even look at Athos either. He’d make tea for himself anyway.  
“Please,” the man answers.  
“Next time you invite me over, please do it on a Saturday,” he mumbles softly when he returns. Athos allows a soft smile to play around his lips.  
“I’ve learned hangovers are no worse when occupied than when staying at home. But if you wish it so,” Athos says, accepting the tea and drinking it while it’s still scolding hot.  
“Is that why you’re here?” he inquires, stifling a yawn. He’s at least partly successful.  
“Partly,” he doesn’t elaborate though. And d’Artagnan had learned not to press the man. 

Athos had remained there until closing time and then he’d just followed d’Artagnan into the musketeers where Aramis was sitting with Constance. Constance was also a nurse at the hospital and she smiles widely at d’Artagnan and nods to Athos.  
“d’Artagnan, I’d been meaning to find you. Here,” she says, handing him something. It’s sealed in an envelope though and he realizes immediately it’s not to be opened there. He smiles at her and gives her a quick hug before sitting down.  
“You two are faring no better, are you?” Aramis asks, sounding sympatric despite his amusement.  
“Shut up,” Athos only throws his way. He does put a hand on Aramis’ knee though, to keep the force out of his words.  
“’S your fault. You kept putting more in my glass,” d’Artagnan says. Aramis doesn’t even bother to look innocent or apologetic. He does however put a hand on d’Artagnan’s knee. D’Artagnan can’t help but notice the stares he gets from a group of three women. They’re Madame de la Chapelle’s friends and d’Artagnan can’t help but groan. Rumours would be sure to spread even more now. As if anyone needed that. But he also can’t help the small part of him that wishes that maybe, just maybe, those rumours could be true. 

Indeed, his mother called him the next day, inquiring if he had met anyone. It may have seemed innocent, but d’Artagnan knew all too well the cause of it.  
“I’m not dating them, mom,” he says, sounding exasperated probably. He does remember the envelope Constance had given him though, and he takes it out of his jacket as he puts the phone between his shoulder and head instead.  
“But do you like them?”  
“They’re my friends. Come on, you must know how Aramis is,” he says in reply. He’s not getting anything done. The order that came in three days ago hadn’t been finished yet, considering he’d just added a new section to the store of comics, considering Porthos had expressed his liking for them and he could get a deal on them pretty easy. It was a lot of work for him alone, and normally it wouldn’t be a problem, but the past week was a chaos.  
“Yes. But just so you know, I wouldn’t mind. I’d encourage you even,” d’Artagnan smiles, knowing she can’t see it anyway. He finally managed to get the letter unfolded to read it. It simply says that he should come by later that evening.  
“I know, mom. But I have to leave. I’m still setting the new section up. You should come see it once it’s done,” she promises to do so and d’Artagnan leaves for the shop, putting a note in his phone not to forget visiting Constance that evening. He can guess what it’s about, but he wants to hear it. He arrives there just in time to see Athos on his way as well. He’s late again, this time by a whole two hours, but sober.  
“You’re here a lot all of a sudden,” d’Artagnan remarks as he holds open the door for the man to enter.  
“I’ve always loved bookstores,” he says. d’Artagnan only looks at him over the counter, setting up the register. “Aramis is working whole days and Porthos is training hard for the upcoming competition. Even as ‘arrogant’ as I am, I am no longer used to spending my time alone,” he admits.  
“I can understand that, if you’re used to always being surrounded by two men,” d’Artagnan shrugs. He didn’t mind it anyway.  
“It’s easier than I would’ve thought to get used to it,” Athos says and d’Artagnan can hear something in his voice, but the register is stuck and he can’t focus on it. He hits it in frustration after punching the buttons a few times. “I hardly think that will help.”  
“I need to buy a new one, actually. It’s been having trouble for some time,” he senses Athos’ hesitation and he finally looks up to look at the man.  
“Do you need money?” he asks finally, sounding almost shy.  
“No. It’s not a millions company, obviously, but that’s hardly the problem. It’s just that I prefer to focus on the quality of the shop, the books, the cosiness and all that. It’s just a stupid register. It doesn’t make a shop better. And this one does work. It just has.. issues,” d’Artagnan finishes with a sigh. “I’ll step by Treville later, ask him to look at it.”  
“You seem stressed,” Athos observes.  
“Maybe a little. I’ve been trying to set up a comic section. I already have the comics too. It’s just that I can’t quite seem to find the time to actually get to it. Something has come up every day for some reason. I’m never late two days in a row,” he admits.  
“Comics? Porthos got to you then?” Athos has a smile on his face.  
“Not just Porthos. I could just order them by piece otherwise. There’s always been some interest in it, but I usually ordered them instead of setting up a section. There’s a young family that moved into town maybe two weeks before you did. There’s four boys and I’ve noticed one of them seems to like it a lot. His mother asked me if I had comics just two weeks ago. So I figured it was time I’d set it up,” Athos nods.  
“Maybe I can help?” d’Artagnan smiles.  
“You don’t have to do that,” he says as he hears the water is ready and he pours them both some tea. He returns to find Athos with a determined face.  
“I’ll just get lonely back at home anyway,” he admits.  
“Why don’t you just get a job then?” he’d wondered why Athos didn’t have one. He certainly seemed like the kind of person who’d be hired very quickly. He just has a mysterious charm over him and he always seems polite and professional, even if his social skills need some finesse. Athos took a long time just drinking his tea and d’Artagnan hadn’t been expecting an answer.  
“Truth? I can’t be bothered to show up if the job doesn’t interest me. I’ve yet to find one that does,” d’Artagnan can actually imagine that’s exactly what Athos does.  
“And why should I let you help here then?” d’Artagnan teases with a wide smile.  
“That interests me,” Athos smiles as well.  
“When is Porthos’ game anyway?” d’Artagnan asks.  
“Two months.”  
“So, I’d have to keep you interested for at least two months then? I’m sorry, Athos, but this is a small bookstore in a small town. You’re the only person who comes in here more than once a month. As soon as the comics are done, you’d have nothing to do,” Athos seems confused for all of a moment before realization seems to dawn on him.  
“I’m not asking you to hire me. I’m asking you to let me help. I already spend most of my days here anyway,” Athos clarifies.  
“Oh, I thought you were soliciting. You really aren’t looking for a job then?”  
“No,” he replies simply. And when d’Artagnan realizes no further explanation is coming he sighs.  
“So, you’re saying you get lonely without Aramis or Porthos there, it’s two months until at least one of them will be home more, and you don’t want a job? Why?” he asks, not even realizing he says it out loud at first. But he can’t help but want to know. Athos smiles, though it’s not the smile d’Artagnan is used to seeing. It’s not the forced smile he puts on for the rest of the town either but it’s just.. there’s an old irony it in, it seems.  
“I guess you’ve proven you don’t fall to the gossip in this town,” Athos starts. D’Artagnan wants to interrupt, wants to tell him he doesn’t need to tell. He was just curious. He’s content to let Athos keep his secrets and mysteries. People are pressing him more than enough already.  
“You don’t have to tell me. It’s hardly my place to ask,” he says even if he is curious and Athos seems like he actually will tell him.  
“It is, though. We’re friends. You can ask me anything. If I reply is another thing, as much of my past is.. painful to speak about,” he admits.  
“I don’t want to bring-“  
“It’s my place to decide, okay?” he looks at d’Artagnan, who eventually nods. “Nobody here in this town knows my last name. Do you know why?” it throws him off a little bit.  
“I don’t know. I’ve never thought to ask about it, after all.”  
“That woman who was here did. I refused to tell her. Even though it’s just a name for most.”  
“Well.. yes, but she’s a bitch,” d’Artagnan replies. Athos is puzzling him even more than usual. Athos gives a wry smile.  
“Well, maybe you’re right. I probably wouldn’t have given my name even if it was just that,” he admits, “But unfortunately, it’s the name itself that keeps me from telling anyone. Even after I started dating Porthos and Aramis I hid it for a long time.”  
“Athos, you don’t have to tell me. Whatever it is, I can tell it weighs heavily on you. You can help out here and stay here all you want. I don’t care. It was more curiosity than anything serious.”  
“I know, d’Artagnan. But I owe it to you, considering you let me spend so much time in your shop,” d’Artagnan is about to protest again. Athos however doesn’t notice for a small blush has crept on his cheeks and he’s looking at a spot over d’Artagnan’s shoulder. “And admittedly, I fell into bed with Porthos and Aramis only a few days after meeting them. We’ve been friends for two months by now,” he finally does look up again. “Right?”  
“I’d say so, yeah. But friends don’t have to tell each other everything. God, I’m so glad Ninon doesn’t tell me everything. I bet I’d be working as a hooker now rather than in a bookstore if she did,” he chuckles to relieve some of the tension. A loud beep calls him to the back room to turn off the small but effective washer he’d turned on earlier.  
“Ah, yes. But to friends, d’Artagnan, a name is just a name. It’s others I’m worried about,” Athos says with a wider smile than d’Artagnan’s ever seen on him when he returns. “I’ll go check when Treville can come over for you. Want some lunch?” he asks. D’Artagnan is once again thrown. This time by the sudden change in subject.  
“Can’t reach any cash at the moment, but if you don’t mind me paying back later, I’d like some,” he says.  
“It’s my treat,” he says before walking off. D’Artagnan shakes his head in confusion when Athos is out of sight before noticing something by the door on the floor. He walks over and picks it up. He’s putting it in the back room, considering it seemed to be an ID and someone was bound to come and collect it later. He checks it to see whom he should pay a visit to if nobody shows up today and he almost laughs out loud when he recognizes Athos in the photo. It hadn’t been an accident then, he thinks to himself.  
And then he finds himself reading the information on it, despite his determination to put it away without looking. Birth name(s): Olivier d’Athos. Family name: de la Fere. D’Artagnan actually reads it again. And again. And then once more just to be sure. So that’s why it wasn’t just a name. That’s why he didn’t seem to care in the slightest about getting a job. De la Feres are one of the very few noble families left. Aside from the old royal line, which was still alive as well, they were known to be the richest in France. They had jurisdiction, to some degree, even despite the titles of old being restricted. D’Artagnan knew there to be three de la Feres alive this day. The name Olivier definitely rings a bell anyway, even if it’s from when he was small. He couldn’t for the life of him remember what it was, but he could tell that Athos had tried, and succeeded, to flee the world of media and constant eyes upon him.  
Despite his shock and surprise, he actually finds himself chuckling slightly. That certainly explains the way Athos behaved. How he didn’t need to look for a job. How he was reluctant to tell people about his name. He pockets the ID card with a smile and returns to the front room.  
Athos comes back about twenty minutes later with lunch for two and a nervous, curious look on his face. D’Artagnan smiles at him, but he’s focused on Lucas for the moment. Lucas was the boy who’d asked for comics before and d’Artagnan had gotten the boxes from the back to allow him to look through them.  
“I’m so glad you’re finally getting a whole section. Is it okay if I reserve these and come back tomorrow?” Lucas asks after he’s been through them. He’s taken seven out.  
“’Course,” he nods as he stashes them behind the counter. “Oh, and Luke?”  
“Mh?”  
“Do me a favour? If you run into Alex, will you tell him about it as well? He seemed very put off that I didn’t have any last time.”  
“Yeah, ‘course dude. I’ll spread the word,” he grins widely before leaving. D’Artagnan waves him off with a smile, glad the boy seemed so happy about the extra section before turning back to Athos.  
“I’ve reserved something for you too. Should really be more cautious ‘bout strewing stuff around, you know,” he says to Athos as he takes the ID from his pocket and hands it back to the man, sitting across him. The lunch exists of the musketeer’s special, which is a delicious soup (not his mother’s) combined with bread covered with.. well, Treville just called it hot meat. It was a sort of chicken, mushroom and cream concoction with herbs in it and it was delicious as fuck.  
“I have no idea how you found this. But thanks for returning it,” Athos says with a twinkle in his eyes that’s not reflected by his mouth, though that seems almost forced. He takes his wallet out of his pocket and puts the ID card in it.  
“Yeah, can’t imagine how something that sloppily kept can’t fall out of pockets,” d’Artagnan’s sarcasm does it in and Athos’ smile breaks through. He’s keeping it in a way that even if he loses his wallet it’ll be unlikely someone will find it. “But last I checked, that’s pretty useless. All cards have full names,” d’Artagnan points out.  
“Not if you play it right,” he says, handing d’Artagnan another card. Athos d’Alexandre.  
“Mh. Fair enough,” d’Artagnan chuckles as he hands it back. Then he takes his lunch before it cools down too much and curls his legs over the leg of the chair. “Thanks.”  
“Not a problem. So, can I help? That kid sure seemed like he couldn’t wait before the comics are done with anyway,” Athos asks.  
“I already told you that you could,” d’Artagnan reminds him between spoons of soup.  
“Ah, yes. It seems my mind was otherwise preoccupied at the time,” he replies with a smile. D’Artagnan rolls his eyes.  
“I did tell you it wasn’t necessary.”  
“And I insisted on going through with it. And I’m glad I did.”  
“Like you said, it’s just a name,” d’Artagnan assures him, squeezing his shoulder gently on his way to the back room when the next portion of tea is ready.  
“You’re right, of course,” Athos shrugs when d’Artagnan comes back. D’Artagnan can sense something behind the words again.  
“Listen, I know what you mean. Especially in a town like this. But to me, you’re no different than you were yesterday. I didn’t care for your last name then and I don’t care for it now,” he assures the man, drinking some tea before continuing to eat his lunch.  
“I’m glad to hear it,” Athos says and there’s a naked honesty behind those words. They sit like that for a while longer, neither really wanting to get up even if their lunch is finished.  
“When did Treville say he’d come? Or couldn’t he?” d’Artagnan remembers then.  
“He could come by this evening, between seven and eight. I told him I’d get back to him about it, considering the shop’s closed by then. I thought you might have other plans,” d’Artagnan shakes his head.  
“Nah, I’ll call him. I gotta visit my Constance, but she won’t mind if it’s a bit later,” d’Artagnan replies. Athos nods and eventually they do get up and start working. 

They don’t get that much work done after all, with them talking and drinking and relaxing more and his mother stopping by, insisting to finally properly meet Athos (it turns out that even after two months the man had managed to evade at least half the people in town). When his mom is finally out the door, half an hour after closing time, it’ll only a bit more before Treville will be there and they haven’t eaten yet.  
“I’m going to get some food at the supermarket. Can’t manage to cook in half an hour and be back here,” d’Artagnan sighs as he eyes the clock.  
“Aramis was right. Your mother is a real sweet woman,” Athos says, stepping out the door so d’Artagnan can lock up. They go to the supermarket together and d’Artagnan notices the silent way in which Athos has invited himself to eat dinner with him as well.  
“She is,” he says with a smile, not commenting on how he’d noticed. For as much as he evaded people, he didn’t seem as if he could stand to be alone when he was sober (d’Artagnan had noticed he’d sometimes slip off without anyone when he was drunk).  
They share a microwave meal together, and don’t ask how d’Artagnan had managed to get a microwave in a bookstore. He never had one and then one day it was just there. D’Artagnan recognized it as his mom’s old one but she’d always denied it. Just like his cleaner.  
“Hey, d’Art,” Treville greets him as he walks in.  
“Hey, thanks for coming,” d’Artagnan says.  
“So, you’re hiring Athos as your slave now, are you?” Treville asks with a chuckle. Athos choses that exact moment to come back from the toilet.  
“Hardly. Though he seems to think so,” d’Artagnan replies with a smirk.  
“I can make myself scarce if you’d like it so?” Athos offers.  
“Nah, that’s fine. Maybe there’s hope for you to be able to fix it. No matter what I do, d’Artagnan just can’t seem to remember how to fix the damn thing, even if he refuses to buy a new one.”  
“It’s not important. It only needs to open and close,” d’Artagnan says with a scowl.  
“But it doesn’t,” Athos says dryly.  
“Thank you, Sherlock, for your enlightening observation. I hadn’t noticed yet.”  
“Shut up, Watson,” Athos replies. D’Artagnan finds himself pleasantly surprised by that answer and he chuckles.  
“Yeah, if you two lovebirds are done yet?” Treville asks, and d’Artagnan turns to him, missing the way Athos blushes. He does feel his own cheeks heat the slightest bit though.  
“Yes?” he asks.  
“Give me a screwdriver. I can’t do anything without one.”  
“Anything? That must be painful,” d’Artagnan teases. Treville sends an amused glare his way.  
“I’m sure there’s men who like it. Fortunately I’m not among them,” he says.


	4. A hospital visit

D’Artagnan discovers Constance text that her shift was starting at eight at ten to eight. He sighs, he’s not going to make it there in time. But he can go to the hospital. They could get some privacy there, because he knows she needs to talk about it. So he goes over to the hospital instead. He finds Aramis, lounging in one of the empty rooms first.   
“I hardly believe nurses are paid to work the air,” d’Artagnan teases as he approaches. Aramis turns to look at him and a wide smile covers his features yet again.   
“Hey d’Art. What are you doing over here? Please tell me Athos didn’t try and kill you?”   
“What makes you think it has to be Athos?”   
“He’s the one just about living in your store. Besides, if it was Porthos, you’d need an ambulance, or worse,” Aramis observes. D’Artagnan concedes with a chuckle.   
“No, I’m actually looking for Constance. I was going to visit her earlier, but the register stuck again and Treville couldn’t come earlier,” he explains. “Have you seen her?”   
“Mh? No, I haven’t. But I’ll accompany you. My break’s over anyway,” Aramis says as he pushes himself off the wall and joins him   
“How long are your shifts if you’re still working?” d’Artagnan asks.   
“It’s the work of a nurse, I fear. But I figure you must be used to it,” Aramis shrugs.   
“Well, yeah, but I spend a lot of time drinking tea and reading books.”  
“I’d noticed the tea part. Half the time Athos has been there he comes back scenting of tea,” Aramis laughs. D’Artagnan can’t help a chuckle. Aramis has a catchy laugh.   
They find Constance in a conversation with doctor Lemay. D’Artagnan smiles widely at the two and halts Aramis for a bit. The man looks confused at first. And then he notices the two and how they are standing.   
“Ah, fresh love,” Aramis says with a theatrical sigh. “It’s like watching spring itself unfold.”  
“You should be a poet, ‘Mis,” d’Artagnan jokes.   
“I was thinking of it, to be frank. I wrote a verse, want to hear it?”  
“Not particularly,” he said. Aramis quite often made drunken poems and they were every time more awful than the previous one.   
“Thee plus one equals two and two. Yet two and two also equals four and no more. And three plus one equals four and every single one,” Aramis looks at him intently and d’Artagnan can’t help but feel like he’s missing something. But he can’t for the life of his imagine what Aramis and the worst poem he’s heard so far, and really, he wasn’t even drunk now, mean by it.   
“Are you going somewhere with that?” he asks when Aramis continues to look.   
“Of course. But as long as you can’t see it for yourself, I’m not going to tell you. It’s poetry d’Artagnan. It shouldn’t have to be explained,” Aramis says, patting his back and walking away with a wide, mischievous smile.   
“What are you looking so confused about?” d’Artagnan hears Constance ask. He can spot Lemay walking off into the same direction Aramis went before.   
“Aramis is a strange man. He just gave me a poem with nothing but numbers and he expects me to read a message of it,” d’Artagnan wonders. And then he realizes Constance is there and they’re alone and he turns to her excitedly. “You’ve started dating then?”   
“Yes! Oh, d’Artagnan, he’s truly wonderful. And he actually respects me as a person,” she sounds happy, if a little wistful. Her ex, Bonacieux, hadn’t been so fond of her free spirit and inspired mind. Something d’Artagnan himself had always admired in her as well.   
“That’s great. You deserve that. And more. So much more. I’m so happy for you, Con,” he says, giving her a big hug. She chuckles delightedly as she wraps her arms around him herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is very short, but otherwise 5 would be too long '^^ In order to make up for that, I will upload them right after each other though, so don't worry ;)


	5. Three plus one equals two plus two

D’Artagnan was actually looking forward to being in the store today, considering he actually knew for sure Athos would be there. It’d been a given these past days anyway, but it was always nice to have it confirmed. Especially when the other two were trailing behind him.   
“d’Artagnan! Long-time no see,” Porthos says.   
“Not my fault. I’ve been here every day,” he says. “What kind of competition are you training so hard for anyway?” he inquires.   
“European championship,” d’Artagnan nearly chokes on his tea.   
“I hadn’t known you were that professional,” he admits. Porthos and Aramis’ boisterous laughs sounds through the room even as Athos smiles and lets out a huff. D’Artagnan had come to think of it as Athos’ idea of a chuckle.   
“Yeah, I suppose I wouldn’t have thought of it either. But y’know, those champions don’t just appear for the competition and then go to Mars or wherever,” Porthos says once his laugh had calmed a bit. D’Artagnan blushes slightly.   
“Yeah, I guess I knew that. Somewhere. It’s not exactly.. you just don’t expect to meet someone at such a high calibre, you know?” d’Artagnan mumbles, preparing their tea. Aramis seems amused. Probably at more than just the tea.   
“And yet here you meet two at once,” Aramis says with a smile. d’Artagnan arches a brow.   
“How so? You a professional poet after all? Please tell me, I’ll go burn my ears and stake my eyes if that’s the case,” he chuckles even as he says so.   
“Not me, you idiot. Athos told us he told you,” he explains.   
“Oh, that. I mean, technically you’re wrong then.”   
“Mh?” Aramis looks interested.   
“I didn’t meet you just now. You only told me now,” he points out. Aramis lets a small smile play.   
“Ah. Well, you’re right. But I never specified when you met them,” he smirks before finishing his coffee and getting up. Then the two of them leave, leaving Athos and he alone.   
“I wonder how you put up with his presence all day,” d’Artagnan chuckles as he watches them leave. The man was very pleasurable companionship, but he was like a living energy-vacuum.   
“Practice. And not being offered a lot of choice,” Athos replies with a soft smile. “Besides, I’m hardly with them the whole day,” he shrugs.   
“I’ve noticed,” he remarks dryly. Athos directs that smile at him rather than the door now.   
“That’s not what I meant,” he says.   
“Then what?” d’Artagnan inquires. Athos didn’t usually bring things up without a reason.   
“Polygamous relations aren’t.. it’s more complicated to explain than to live it, probably. But, the three of us, we’re a thing. But like Aramis pointed out, they were together before ever having met me,” Athos looks at him. to d’Artagnan it seems like he’s trying to see if there’s pity or confusion in his eyes. For whatever reason though, d’Artagnan doesn’t feel that way. Athos must recognize it, for he looks relieved.   
“Well, I mean, that’s the way it always is, isn’t it? Not all things have to be the same in every way to make it work,” d’Artagnan shrugs.   
“That’s very true indeed,” Athos says. “Most people don’t see it the same way though.”  
“I’m not most people. Have you met half the people in this town?” Athos smiles. It’s in that moment, almost as if they heard him, that Madame de la Chapelle and one of her friends comes in. This particular friend, Madame du chanson, was actually quite a nice woman. He’d never understood why the two could bear each other, let alone be friends.   
“Oh wow, it’s a miracle. Monsieur actually has the muscles required to smile,” she remarks. Her friend frowns at her, but she seems surprised as well.   
“Madame, as much as I appreciate you coming by,” which indeed isn’t very much at all, “Athos doesn’t deserve this. At all. But definitely not inside these four walls.”  
“Don’t worry, we’ll be on our way in a bit. Your mother asked me to hand you this,” she says. d’Artagnan smiles as he accepts it. There’s half an apple pie on a plate.   
“Thank you,” he says. “Oh, by the way, Madame?” he asks when she’s turned around.   
“Yes?”   
“Your book arrived as well. I’ll go get it,” he says. It’d come in that morning. He hands her the packaged book (he hardly thought she’d appreciate people knowing she regularly bought porn books) and she offers him a warm smile in return.   
“How come a witch like her and a woman like her get along?” Athos wonders when they’ve left. D’Artagnan shrugs.   
“That, my friend, you may tell me if you ever find out. I’m just glad they are. She does keep the witch from flying too high on her broom,” he says. “Pie?”   
“Yes, please,” he replies. D’Artagnan neatly cuts two pieces off, setting each on a plate and putting a fork with it as well.   
“So, what made you bring it up in the first place?” d’Artagnan wonders, continuing their conversation. He’s not as bad as the others in town, obviously, but he’s curious about their relation nonetheless.   
“You brought it up,” Athos counters. D’Artagnan frowns and thinks back to their conversation.   
“Oh, so I did. But even then, you usually just don’t mention it or refrain from answering when you don’t want to talk about something.”  
“Aramis and Porthos are going out for dinner tonight. Today is the day they met,” Athos says. Then he smiles softly. “Or, well, not today obviously. It’s five years ago by now.”  
“So they’ve been together for five years then?” d’Artagnan asks.   
“No, that’ll be when Porthos is in London. It’s why Aramis chose to take up his free days so soon after he started,” d’Artagnan doesn’t miss that.  
“Aramis will be gone as well?” Athos turns to look at him.   
“Yes? Did I not tell you?”   
“No. Why don’t you go with them?” d’Artagnan wonders. He can’t imagine what it’d be like to go from having two boyfriends to being alone for three weeks. It must be very lonely. Athos’ face saddens immediately and he wishes he could take it back.   
“I can’t travel out of the country,” he must’ve seen the confusion on d’Artagnan’s face, for he continues pretty quick. At least for his usual self, “Well, that’s not quite correct. More specifically, I can’t travel to England. You need to pass border patrol. With a real ID. It’s taken me too long to shake the whole circus off to have to do it again, and for only three weeks.”   
“So basically, anything that requires ID is out of limits for you? That must suck,” d’Artagnan says.   
“I’ve got a fake ID. A really good one too. The only thing it fails to pass is border and plane controls,” Athos says. “Basically, I can do whatever I want, as long as it’s in Europe and not by plane.” He sees d’Artagnan’s face, which, if it reflects his thoughts, which it probably does, reveals he’s not convinced. Athos manages a smile. Not happy, but as if he doesn’t mind it at all. Isn’t lying. “I have a lot of freedom, d’Artagnan, don’t think of me as a caged bird.”   
“I just.. I mean..” he doesn’t know what to say. Athos interrupts him before he can continue, first making sure nobody is coming inside.   
“I’m not just saying that so you’ll stop taking pity on me. For one thing, I’ve managed to escape the whole media circus surrounding others in my position,” d’Artagnan wants to interrupt that he doesn’t have ‘the whole media circus’ but Athos’ look stops him. “For another, I can actually afford not to have a crappy job I hate and to live my life wailing about it. And I’ve never much been a travelling man anyway. I’ve been outside of France, when my parents took me. I’ve seen more of the world than many others I know. It just doesn’t attract me as much. I’m happy here. I’ve got Aramis and Porthos and I’ve met you and I can just go about daily life doing the things I enjoy most,” d’Artagnan doesn’t know what to say at first, so he just remains silent for a bit.   
“I suppose you’re right, though only partly for the reasons you gave me. Besides, it’s your life. I can hardly tell you that you should want to live it differently. But you’re right because you’re happy here, not because of the other reasons, Athos. I don’t have a media circus around me and I’ve got a job I love. Aramis and Constance both seem to like being a nurse, far as I can tell.”   
“I understand what you’re saying. But I had a very different upbringing. There was no choosing my job for me. I was just to look pretty while the rest of the world enjoyed my drama,” Athos sounds as if he wants to hear no more of it. And d’Artagnan can actually tell Athos means that he doesn’t mind it. So he doesn’t press it.  
“Well, I mean, they obviously did something wrong,” Athos arches a delicate brow. “I mean, pretty?” he laughs as Athos accidently huffs his chuckle before remembering to glare.   
“I was going to ask if you would enjoy dinner with me tonight. But I suppose I’ll have to find someone else, then, if my face is so unbearable to you.”   
“Oh, I’m sorry, Athos. You’re very pretty,” d’Artagnan is still chuckling as he blows him a kiss and takes his plate to the back room. He once again manages to miss his blush as a result.   
“I meant it though. I was going to ask you to dinner,” he says.   
“And did you mean the second part too?” Athos glares at him.   
“Why must you be so infuriating sometimes,” d’Artagnan shrugs.   
“It’s a talent. Must be the same as Aramis’ poetry talent.”   
“Ah, yes. It certainly has the same effect.”  
“But, yeah, sure. I’m free tonight,” d’Artagnan finally answers. “Where do you want to eat? Yours or mine?”   
“It would hardly be appropriate to invite you to dinner and then make it at your place, would it?”   
“Well, I mean, there’s people who like to do that. Ninon for an example. She continuously does that. So, yours then?”   
“I’ll take you somewhere.”   
“You don’t have to take me anywhere. We shared a microwave food together anyway.”  
“Ah, that’s true. And to be quite honest, I’d rather not have it again. You can pick the restaurant, if you’d like?” d’Artagnan is about to protest when he catches Athos looking nervous. The man was enough of a friend that d’Artagnan now knew his expression when he was trying to hide nerves. He raises a brow. “Why, exactly, would it be so bad not to go eat out?” Athos glares at him, trying to just get to him to say a restaurant. It doesn’t work however. D’Artagnan is quite enjoying this, considering it’s clear it just makes him shy rather than sad or anything.   
“Fine. If you must know, I couldn’t cook to save my life. Porthos and Aramis have quite literally banned me from the kitchen after I somehow managed to set a fire,” d’Artagnan laughs. Athos scowls at him. “You try and live your life never having cooked or having set more than the occasional foot in the kitchen for sixteen years.” It doesn’t stop him from laughing though and he can see Athos can see the amusement as well.   
“Fine, we’ll go out then,” he concedes after his laughter has died down a bit.   
“Thank you. Do you also want to choose the restaurant or shall I do so?”   
“Nah, you choose,” d’Artagnan shrugs. “But do remind me to not depend on your cooking skills during a zombie apocalypse. You’d be dead in the walking dead, I’m sure.”   
“Yes, and I’m quite sure I could use a pan to knock you out and throw you as bait,” Athos counters. “I am quite a skilled sword fighter, as it just so happens, so between you cooking and me fighting, I’d say we’d last at least a day,” d’Artagnan laughs again.   
“Is that because you think I’m a bad cook or because you’re not as skilled a fighter as you say?”   
“Actually I was thinking more about the number of because you can’t fight. I do have to sleep eventually,” Athos smirks.   
“Mh? You think so? I couldn’t stop zombies? Well then, maybe you should fence against me sometime,” he says with his own smirk. He’d been on the fencing team since he first started at Dumas university and he’d ended his last year being captain and celebrated champion of the inter-university championship.   
“Maybe I should,” Athos agrees. “Perhaps, if Porthos and Aramis are still out by then, we could do so after dinner,” his face displays he’s not even thinking d’Artagnan may have skill. Because, well, who the hell fenced really?   
“You’re on,” he replies. Trying not to think about how Aramis and Porthos would look if they were there. How they’d have ravaged each other. Yes, he quite certainly needs to get thought out of his head.


	6. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to court me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, I'm so sorry you guys.  
> I, for one, certainly am glad I had a lot of chapters already finished before starting to post it, because I've literally been so busy I haven't even had time to upload before now. Hope you enjoy despite the lateness '^^
> 
> Also, I'm sorry about the lay-out. I've got spacing between sentences in Word, but for some reason in just doesn't retain if I post it here. If anyone knows how to solve this, I'd be happy to change it. I find it reads more easily without being so densely on each other.

Athos and he continued to build the new section before closing the shop an hour earlier than usual. Athos went out during the day to make reservations. But still, d’Artagnan needed to change. Usually, working in a bookshop didn’t get you very dirty, but he’d had the brilliant idea of painting some superheroes and other comic characters on the wall. Athos turned out to want to help him even with that. D’Artagnan didn’t let him draw the line-art, but he could at least paint between the lines. He’d give it detail later. Anyway, he had paint on his clothes that were also his oldest clothes. He went 1home to change into some of his fancier jeans (not to say fancy, he didn’t have not-casual clothes) and a blouse he quite liked the looks of.   
But when Athos arrives to pick him up, he feels like he definitely needs to go back in and change into that long, long lost suit jacket he had. Athos does wear jeans, yes, not even anything too fancy either. He has a white blouse with a blazer over it and it all just.. fits. D’Artagnan remembers trying on a blazer himself once, but it just didn’t work. But to top it off, he’d actually really groomed himself for once. He didn’t usually look like a hobo.. there was just always something about him that made him seem as if he’d rolled out of his bed hungover. Which likely was the case.   
“I’m underdressed,” he says quite determinedly. Athos shakes his head.   
“No, you’re not. You’re hardly dressed differently from me, aside from the blazer,” he protests.   
“Yes, and yet look at the difference,” he rolls his eyes. There’s a twinkle in Athos’ eyes.   
“Are you saying I look good, d’Artagnan?”   
“Yes,” he says and then he catches himself. But he did look extremely good. “I mean.. compared to you it looks like my blouse is 10 sizes too big.”   
“There’s nothing to worry about. We’re going to a wok palace, in case you were wondering. I hardly think there will be anyone expecting you to be dressed fancy.”  
“And yet you did,” d’Artagnan points out.   
“I didn’t. These are the same jeans I wore several times when I met you. And Aramis was actually the one to make me wear the blazer.” D’Artagnan still doubts if he should ignore that and just find his jacket. But then it’d probably look worse, considering that had been his father’s. Who’d been shorter than him. And broader.   
“I suppose you’re right,” d’Artagnan gives in, making sure he has everything before stepping out. D’Artagnan looks surprised when they get out and Athos’ car isn’t there. He doubts, just for a moment, if the man had his driver’s license. Athos’ car more or less belonged to Porthos, seeing as he was the only one who’d ever drove it as far as d’Artagnan had seen. In fact, he only knew it wasn’t Porthos’ own car because Aramis and Athos had once held it over his head when Porthos declared he was sober enough to drive them all to the cinema. He’d been surprised. And then he realized that was yet another thing only he knew about, except for the three men themselves of course. And they did go to the cinema the day afterward and again Porthos was the one driving, even though Athos was there and it was his car. But by what Athos had told him about not being able to cook, he might as well not have his license.   
“Are we going by car?” he asks. Athos must hear something in his voice.  
“I’ve not seen a wok in town? How else would we get there?” d’Artagnan blushes, grateful for the dark hue already in the sky hiding it.   
“Well, yeah, but I mean.. I’ve never seen you drive. I was wondering, you know, do you even have your license?” Athos looks amused, though he tries to look indignant about it.   
“I’m never telling anyone I can’t cook anymore. Aramis and Porthos were bad enough. You too now?”   
“Well, I mean, I’m just asking. I’ve never seen you drive.”  
“I’ve never seen you drive either,” Athos protests. D’Artagnan gets a large smile on his face.  
“Exactly. And I don’t have my license,” Athos arches a brow.   
“Really?” d’Artagnan nods. “I do.”  
“Then why is your car nowhere to be seen?”   
“You don’t know what my car looks like,” Athos protests. D’Artagnan rolls his eyes.  
“Of course I do. Red, fancy looking cabrio.”   
“That’s Porthos’ car.”   
“Then why did you and Aramis say it was yours?” Athos sighs and he walks over to the car they’re taking, Athos’ car apparently, and steps in. This one looks just as fancy, though more professional and it’s black. He waits until both doors are closed and starts the car before answering.   
“We didn’t say it was mine. Just that I bought it. Do you really see me driving around in that thing?” Athos inquires.   
“Well, no. But then you said that and I just.. figured it was your car.”   
“Completely technical, you’re right. But I don’t think I’ve ever driven it,” Athos admits.   
“Besides, I’ve never even seen this car.”   
“That’s because I keep it at a garage. I’ve learned three guys, one unemployed, one a nurse and one to many nothing more than an ordinary wrestler owning three cars gets you unwanted attention. Porthos drives one of us over if we need it and then we make sure it’s within walking distance.”   
“Three? Aramis has one too?” Athos nods. “Why? I mean, I get that two cars is convenient, but are you ever all gone by car?” Athos cracks a small smile.  
“No, but Aramis.. is like his own poetry sometimes. I do take only one of them on a date occasionally, just like they did tonight, and when I take Aramis, that’s okay. But Porthos always insists on driving and the red is an automate. He doesn’t do well in a shift. Aramis made a fuss about Porthos getting to have the shiny red one and he needed to take the boring black one when we were gone,” there’s an exasperated fondness in his voice.   
“And he got a pretty pink one?” d’Artagnan asks. Athos smiles.   
“Close. It’s purple,” d’Artagnan chuckles. “I think it’s quite possibly the queerest car in existence. But then, it fits Aramis,” he adds. And there’s a gleam in his eyes.   
“Well I mean, we’re queer too,” d’Artagnan points out. Athos arches a brow.   
“So you are gay?” he asks.   
“Bi. You didn’t know?”   
“I.. well, Constance said something along those lines when I was waiting for Aramis.”   
“Oh yeah. I’m sorry, I don’t always think about it anymore. It’s just, I’ve been out since I was 11. In a small town, everyone knew immediately. And I have to admit I might have enjoyed my freedom slightly more than necessary in college. So I usually take it for granted that people know.”   
“You were 11? That’s young,” Athos remarks.   
“Ah yes. I’m just an early flower,” d’Artagnan does his best impression of Aramis. “How old were you then?”   
“I never did come out,” Athos admits. “I’m bi as well. And well, I didn’t feel like escaping just to get a new brand on my face. Figured I’d just chose a nice girl when the time came. And then along came Porthos and Aramis and they basically forced me into admitting that wasn’t the way to live. But, well, being in a relation with two guys made it pretty obvious for people that my interests weren’t purely feminine.”   
“Judging by the fact that two are male, one might even think it’s more masculine,” d’Artagnan points out. Athos shrugs.   
“Indeed. A lot of women don’t realize I’m bi. Well, men as well, but there’s hardly an advantage in that,” there’s a mischievous tone and gleam to that.   
“Athos, you sly fox. So how many women did undress before you without them knowing your true interests?’   
“When I was still teaching fencing? Quite a few,” he huffs and d’Artagnan laughs.   
“Too bad everyone already knows I’m bi rather than gay,” he says in the end.   
“Should’ve thought better before outing yourself so young then,” Athos teases. He slows down and d’Artagnan realizes they’ve already reached the wok.   
“Ah, maybe, but at least I got to do with boys and girls what I wanted without having to sneak,” d’Artagnan winks at him. They get out and walk over the parking lot.   
“What about Porthos and Aramis anyway? Are they gay or bi?”   
“What do you think?” d’Artagnan does thing.   
“Aramis is definitely bi,” d’Artagnan has no doubt about that. Despite all the differences between him and Aramis, he thinks Aramis must’ve been like d’Artagnan in college when he was single. “I think Porthos is gay though?”   
“You’re entirely correct,” Athos nods. “So how come you thought Aramis was bi even though he’s with us and not me?”   
“I never said I didn’t think you were,” Athos looks surprised.   
“You knew I was bi?”  
“Still are, I think. No, I didn’t know it. But I do have eyes, you know. I’ve seen you check out women walking by before,” d’Artagnan rolls his eyes. They’ve arrived at the wok where two ladies are standing at the entrance, so Athos pauses the conversation for a moment. It’s as fancy a wok as d’Artagnan’s ever seen. There’s an elegant long but narrow fountain with lily leaves in it and lights worked into it as well and the ceiling is decorated richly with ocean themes.   
“Welcome to Shau garden. Can I help you?” one of the ladies asks.   
“I’ve made reservations for two under the name d’Alexandre?” Athos replies.   
“Of course. Follow me,” she says as she walks through the hall with the fountain. “Have you ever been here before?” she asks. Athos turns to d’Artagnan.   
“No,” he replies. Athos obviously has or he would’ve spoken up.   
“Well, there’s a buffet with soups and breads over here. Then here we have the cold and there the warm buffer. There’s the items for the wok and next to it the items for the plate. Then there’s a pizza corner there and a fruit bar over here. And then we have the dessert and ice cream buffets over here,” she points to the different buffets and bars and cooks. D’Artagnan raises a brow in surprise. He really hadn’t seen a wok this fancy before. “Here you are. The drinks over there,” she says before bowing slightly and walking away.   
“Wow. There’s a lot of choice here,” d’Artagnan remarks.   
“Indeed there is,” Athos agrees. “But back to the subject. You truly suspected I was bi?”   
“Is that such a shocker?” d’Artagnan asks.   
“Well.. yes. Not even Aramis knew until months after we started dating.”  
“They must be blind then,” d’Artagnan says. Athos studies him for a moment.   
“Maybe. It seems more like you already know me too well, though,” Athos admits. D’Artagnan can’t help a slight blush. Athos smiles about that. “I like that,” he adds then, more softly. And if d’Artagnan hadn’t known better, hadn’t known Athos already had not one, but two boyfriends and hadn’t even known his interests for men before now, d’Artagnan would’ve thought he was being courted. But both happened and d’Artagnan reasons the restaurant is just Athos being a rich guy. Athos may not be the kind to show off, after all, he was pretty sure everyone in town thought Porthos and Aramis were paying for him all the time and Athos was more than happy to let them think that, but he was rich. Probably richer than d’Artagnan had even thought, if he’d bought a car, and, knowing Aramis and having seen the other two, not just any car either but one that was at least as much as 10 grand, just to please Aramis. He probably didn’t know any better than eating at the fancy woks rather than the ones that seemed as if there was entirely too little choice for something called a buffet.   
“Are you coming?” Athos asks. D’Artagnan looks up. It’d be nice to be courted like this. He’d never been in a serious relation before. His sex life existed of just meeting up and ending in bed. And his dating life was non-existent aside from a date or five, and those were either watching a movie or doing something likewise.   
“Yes,” he answers, taking the hand Athos had held out to him. d’Artagnan had been expecting him to let go as soon as they d’Artagnan got up, so he loosened his hold a little but to his surprise Athos kept his hand in his until they actually reach the tap. Athos takes some Fanta and d’Artagnan is surprised for a moment before remembering they actually do have to drive back. And he didn’t have his license, that hadn’t been a joke. He himself decides to refrain from drinking wine as well because it was sensible and he took some sprite.   
The dinner is quite pleasant and, though he’d learned the differences between his and Athos’ palate quite a bit better by then, he’d found some things he’d never had before but did enjoy. He’d almost wanted to kill Athos for making him taste crab sticks and oysters though. Especially the crab was bad. Athos had almost let out a real laugh at his face.   
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so full,” d’Artagnan remarks when they’re in the car. Athos seems amused. D’Artagnan had liked certain things so much and he’d wanted to taste so much he’d eaten way more than he should’ve.   
“No fencing today then?” he teases.   
“No. But you know what, bring you foil tomorrow. We’ll play a game in the shop. I’m not expecting to be run down so much we can’t play a game,” d’Artagnan says on an impulse. He does want to impress Athos for whatever reason. Oh, who is he kidding. He wanted to impress him because he really liked the man. And not just in a friendly way. It was getting more and more difficult to deny it the more he spent time with Athos.   
“I will, then,” Athos replies, sounding entirely too amused.


	7. Small confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry about the time I once again let pass between updating. But it's the end of the year and I need to sort out some stuff for next year so that I can hopefully go to England for half a year to study there :D It's taking up way more time though and combined with following my normal classes and having to do some stuff from my previous year, school's keeping me very, very busy D:
> 
> But in order to make up for it, and because I don't know when I will have time to update next, I'm uploading two chapters now

Athos does come in carrying two foils the next day. Obviously he hadn’t expected d’Artagnan to have one. He allows Athos the believe, thinking he can impress him all the better if he’s surprised. There’s a few people that morning, coming to make small talk and look at the new section, even though it’s unfinished. The paint had drawn attention then. Athos makes himself scarce during that time, disappearing to the musketeers twice and spending time in the back room, claiming to go through the comics.   
“You don’t have to stay. You can come back tomorrow,” d’Artagnan tells him after Mrs Delacour walks out and Athos walks back into the main store. Athos has managed to evade most people and even left a few unknowing he was there at all.   
“I like it here,” Athos says.   
“And yet you flee every time someone walks in.”  
“I don’t flee,” Athos protests. But then he falls silent. “People make me nervous.”   
“Why?” Athos shrugs.   
“I don’t know,” d’Artagnan rolls his eyes. If he actually didn’t know, he would have come up with another answer. He doesn’t press it though.   
“Can I help you?” he offers instead.   
“You are. By being here,” Athos replies. And he seems so honest in that moment, staring so intently, that d’Artagnan is very much startled by the opening of the door. Porthos walks in. He takes in the two of them standing there but doesn’t seem surprised.   
“I thought I’d find you here, Athos,” he says and walks up to the counter as well. Athos turns to look at his lover and raises a brow. Just after Porthos Newt and his mother walk in, the new kid in town. He walks up to the three of them and Porthos immediately falls silent.   
“Can I ask something?” he inquires, looking at the three of them but not knowing which one to ask.   
“Sure,” d’Artagnan answers. To Porthos he adds, “The back room’s available,” he disappears from behind the counter and walks up to Newt. He notices they’re both just standing there though.   
“You have comics, right?”  
“I’m still making the section, but I already have them. Wanna take a peak?” he asks. The kid nods enthusiastically and d’Artagnan smiles as he goes to collect the boxes.   
“Need help, d’Art?” Porthos offers when he groans.   
“Nah, I’m fine,” he replies.   
“You do realize I need strength training anyway? Come here, I’ll carry them,” Porthos says, walking in behind him. d’Artagnan feels quite weak with the ease with which Porthos seems to carry them. Athos notices and smiles in amusement. they put the boxes on the ground and Newt starts shifting through them.   
“Strength training is what you call it, huh? I’d call it showing off, personally,” d’Artagnan says. Porthos laughs.   
“Ah, yes. I do like showing it off. But only to those I care about,” Porthos chuckles. d’Artagnan doesn’t think about it. After all, Athos was there and it was pretty clear he cared for Athos.   
“Really? What about the entire court in Paris?” Athos asks.   
“Ah, yes, but the court is a special case. Show strength, be left alone. Don’t and get stolen from. You did notice that,” Porthos points out.   
“Don’t remind me,” Athos groans.   
“Here’s your keys, speaking about stealing,” Porthos says, handing the car keys over.   
“Where’s Aramis anyway?” Athos asks.   
“Not a clue,” there’s something in his tone that alerts Athos for he turns fully to face Porthos and his eyes widen a little as his face turns incredulous.   
“Tell me he didn’t,” Porthos rolls his eyes.   
“He’s not that stupid, At. He learned his lesson. But yes, he’s out of town, most likely,” Porthos replies. D’Artagnan notices Newt’s mom is looking curious about what could’ve happened when he looks around, wondering why Porthos was being shifty. He realized they kept secrets from him too, they were lovers after all, but usually he did it a little more subtle.   
“Porthos, you never told me Athos was a kid inside,” d’Artagnan says when Athos, who obviously is still worried about whatever it is that Aramis is doing, is about to reply.   
“How so?” Porthos asks, looking grateful.   
“He was begging me to let him colour in Iron man,” d’Artagnan says and Porthos laughs loudly.   
“And could he colour within in lines? You need to film it next time,” Porthos demands.   
“Well, I mean, look for yourself. He’s plenty red and not even that bad,” d’Artagnan says. That’s the moment Newt walks up to the counter, standing in the space Porthos had vacated in turning around. Exactly between Athos and Porthos.   
“Could I have these please?’ he asks.   
“Of course, that’ll be seven dollars,” he says, already having seen mommy giving him money. He puts a ten dollar bill on the counter and d’Artagnan hands him three dollar back, grabbing a bag and putting the comics in.   
“Why is your ‘stache shaped strangely?” Newt asks Athos.   
“Newt! You don’t ask people such things,” mom scolds him.   
“That’s okay, madame. Kids are just curious by nature,” he says to her before turning to look at Newt. “I have a scar there. Hair doesn’t grow on scars.”  
“Like a pirate has?” Athos nods. “How did you get it? Are you a pirate?”   
“Nothing so cool, I fear. I was born with a cleft lip. Do you know what that is?” the boy shakes his head. Obviously less interested than if he was a pirate but still curious. “It means that my lip didn’t close.”  
“You couldn’t close your mouth?” Athos smiles.   
“I could close my mouth. But see how your lip goes, all the way here,” he trails his finger but he doesn’t touch. Newt nods. “I didn’t have that. My lip ended here and it started again here, and this whole piece of it was missing,” he explains.   
“So you could eat candy without opening your mouth? That’s cool,” Newt exclaims. Before Athos can react that he actually couldn’t Newt’s mom rushes him away. When they’re gone, Athos turns more serious again.   
“So he’s nowhere near her?” Athos asks Porthos.   
“He’d be suicidal to go anywhere near her at this point. You know as well as I do he learned from his mistake. Just because that dick’s dead doesn’t mean nobody else can bust him. Besides, he hasn’t been with anyone since we got serious, remember,” Porthos says. Athos nods.  
“Yeah I know. It’s just that..”  
“It’s still fresh, I know. I get it. But we gotta trust him, At,” he turns to d’Artagnan who’d been kind enough to busy himself with.. well nothing, but at least it seemed like he was trying not to eavesdrop. Porthos chuckles.   
“If this was something you weren’t allowed to know, d’Art, we wouldn’t be standing here. Aramis made a grave mistake with a mafia girl once. And he almost found his own death in the process.”   
“I mean, I know it’s hardly my place and all, but if he almost died, he’s sure to remember that? You really think he’d do it again? I don’t know him as well as you, I’m sure, but he doesn’t sound like the type for that,” he says.   
“You can say anything, d’Art. Didn’t we make that clear before? You’re right. He’s not the type. It’s just.. he’s got a history with bad choices before we got him. And like I said, it’s still so fresh in our minds because it was a very bad situation,” Porthos says.   
“Why are you here anyway?” Athos asks when d’Artagnan doesn’t reply.   
“Can’t a man come see his boyfriend once in a while?” Porthos asks, kissing Athos’ cheek.   
“Certainly,” Athos replies, though he doesn’t sound less confused.   
“Okay, you got me. I actually came here because I was wondering.. tomorrow is Sunday. Athos told me you were going to fence a bit today, but I ran into your mom and she said the shop was busy today. Maybe you can come with me to the gym tomorrow? I’m going to need some help and you can fence better there than you can here I’m sure,” he asks, looking at both men.   
“You know very well I can’t wrestle, Porthos,” Athos remarks.   
“Neither can I, for the record,” d’Artagnan says.   
“And even if you were decent that wouldn’t be enough at this point, no offense. That’s not what I need help with. I just need someone to take my vitals tomorrow. Usually I do so myself but I need to check how I fare without seeing them between bouts,” Porthos says. “I would ask Aramis, but he can’t get the day off.”  
“Sure,” d’Artagnan agrees. Athos doesn’t respond other than a small nod. He looks as if he’s thinking deeply about something.   
“What?” Porthos asks. But Athos doesn’t reply. “Athos?” Athos does focus on him but he still remains silent. “You want to share what’s in that skull of yours?”   
“Not particularly,” he says.   
“But-”   
“Porthos,” Athos looks at him. Porthos eventually sighs and just kisses Athos once more before disappearing out of the shop. “Sometimes I wish Porthos was as easy as you to let go of subjects,” Athos says, leaning back against the counter and looking outside.   
“Yes, but then again, he’s your boyfriend and I’m not,” d’Artagnan replies with a shrug.   
“Does that mean I should tell you less?” d’Artagnan doesn’t notice it at first, as he’s stashing the books back, but he does notice it before he replies. He didn’t ask if he should tell Porthos more. He specifically asked if he should tell d’Artagnan less.   
“If you tell me as much as you tell him, then probably,” he says even if he doesn’t like that thought at all. Athos focuses his eyes on d’Artagnan again.   
“Why should I tell you less then?”   
“I didn’t say you should tell me less. But I do think it should be easier to tell things to your boyfriend of three years than a friend you’ve barely known three months,” d’Artagnan points out.   
“After three years you don’t have that much to tell anymore. He already knows me.”   
“Yes, but I mean..” d’Artagnan stops for a moment, so that he can focus more fully on their conversation. “They love you. They won’t think any less of you for voicing your thoughts every once in a while.”   
“And you will?”   
“No, of course not. If you hadn’t noticed yet, Athos, I actually like you. But I can imagine it would be easier with them than with me,” this time d’Artagnan actually does see a very slight pink hue to the man’s cheeks, even as his mouth curls into a smile.   
“The thing is though, it’s not. For whatever reason that might be,” Athos admits. D’Artagnan blushes as well. He’s saved from having to respond or justify that by Ninon walking in.   
“D’Art!” she calls out, flying at him. “Did you hear?”   
“What?” he asks. His wit is far from him at the particular moment.   
“Look,” she says and holds up her phone for him to read.   
“What?” he asks, taking the phone and reading the article. “That’s my mom.”  
“Yes! Her cake is officially the best in the whole Lupiac region. You should consider yourself very lucky,” she laughs happily.   
“I hadn’t even known she was entering this year,” he admits. She’d told him a month ago that she wouldn’t have time for it. D’Artagnan offered to help, but she’d assured him it was fine.   
“If it’s as good as her pie, I can definitely understand why she won,” Athos says. Ninon looks at the man behind d’Artagnan. And her face changes.   
“Are you living here now?” she asks.   
“I find the lack of a shower somewhat off-putting,” Athos says with a slight smile.   
“Ah, but it certainly explains the smell,” d’Artagnan laughs and Athos glares at him. “Sorry. Hard to resist.”   
“You’re never getting that comics section finished, are you?” Ninon asks sounding amused.   
“I am. Hopefully.”  
“Uh-huh.”   
“Don’t be like that,” d’Artagnan says. “I can finish faster than you.”  
“That’s not a good thing,” she says. He’s about to protest when there’s a snicker behind him. he glares at Athos too.   
“You know what, go entertain each other then,” he says instead, throwing his arms up and taking the paint brush back in hand. Ninon indeed decides to stay, even if it’s just to chat them up.


	8. A game of swords and two very sexy, sweaty, half naked men

D’Artagnan should really, really have thought better about this when he agreed to help Porthos and play fence in the training hall instead. Porthos had come to pick him up that morning (the hall was too far away to walk) and it turned out Athos, who was already in his suit, aside from the mask, already knew how to measure vitals, so at least d’Artagnan didn’t have to do that. However, it soon became clear that today might just be hell disguised as heaven.   
The car ride over was fine. The getting ready was fine. D’Artagnan actually didn’t have his fencing suit anymore, but Athos had brought one that fitted him pretty well actually (turns out it was Aramis’). He’d left his own foil in the store the day before, so he accepts the one Athos hands him as well. It certainly lays easily in his hand, even if it’s not the way he was used to. Athos and he had started and he managed to land four hits before Athos started getting suspicious.   
“This is not the first time you fence,” he remarks.   
“I never did say it was. You just assumed so,” d’Artagnan retorts. There’s a smile on Athos’ face for a little bit but then the game actually starts. With Athos no longer going easy on him it soon becomes clear that he is, in fact, the better fencer. And by a good measurement as well. They continued until Porthos needed to have his first vitals measured. By that time d’Artagnan had only managed to land two more hits whereas Athos had done so 14 times.   
But that’s exactly when things go wrong. All three had been working out for slightly over an hour by that time. Athos, of course, wore his suit. Porthos, however, did not. He had been when d’Artagnan had last seen him, but now he’d put on his training clothes. Which apparently existed of.. well.. tight shorts. And a lot of naked skin. He’s even more muscled than he seems to be with his clothes on. Athos takes off the mask and puts the foil down, walking past d’Artagnan to help the man. And d’Artagnan is very grateful they’re focused on each other. Because he stares.   
It’s hypnotizing how they treat each other any given day. Partly because Athos, even though d’Artagnan often doesn’t notice, is a silent, evasive person and, though not talkative, he does talk and smile a lot around them. For a larger part because Porthos is just so.. so Porthos. He laughs and he cheers and he talks and then he supports and jokes and laughs some more. It’s so easy to talk with Porthos for that reason. And Aramis is usually just sex on legs. All flirting and fleeting touches and soft kisses to whatever body part is in reach.   
But now, with Porthos just about naked, because he might as well have been for the tightness of that damned short, and Athos on an adrenaline rush, it’s even more so. Athos sits in Porthos lap to put the blood pressure thing about his arm and though Porthos half-heartedly protests it’s just going to rise like that, he doesn’t push Athos off and just pecks a small kiss to Athos’ jaw before complaining he has to trim. Athos smiles and continues to take his pressure and heart rate before sliding that untrimmed beard of his all over Porthos before Porthos wrestles him down on the ground and returns the favour. All the while, d’Artagnan is pinching his arm to keep a part of him from getting too interested.   
They go about the day some more, Athos actually opting to teach him how to improve his technique and occasionally allowing d’Artagnan a rest while Porthos needs his vitals taken. And each time it’s a hell for d’Artagnan not to get aroused. They go on like that for about three hours, upon which time d’Artagnan feels like he’s dead.   
“You know, I was champion of fencing at my university. But you might as well be the French champion,” he pants. They’d finally stopped when Porthos took his lunch break.   
“I told you I was good at it,” Athos says, taking his mask off. But rather than stopping there he takes off the suit as well, leaving him in shorts as well, though these are loose fitting ones. He too is more fit than d’Artagnan had thought. Although, to be honest, he hadn’t really been expecting him to be very fit. He was broad enough and d’Artagnan often felt rather small in the company of his three friends, considering Aramis too was a lot buffer than him. but Athos always wore clothes that hardly gave away anything he was hiding underneath. But apparently, he’s well developed. He’s a lot thinner than Porthos, admittedly, but he does have a very nice definition. And he as well as Porthos are very sweaty. They come sit next to him (he’d sat down without even taking the mask off) and Porthos chuckles.   
“You’re not going to be able eat anything with a mask over your face,” he remarks. He takes off the mask but he leaves the suit on, taking his exhaustion and already sitting down as an excuse. He’s not completely hard, but he’s not sure his semi isn’t visible within his own loose shorts. Porthos leans into Athos to once again let the man check his vitals but this time Porthos kisses him fully afterward and d’Artagnan’s semi definitely likes the vision of that.   
When they part Porthos chuckles happily, pulling Athos to lean against him much the same was as they had been that first day they ever met, nearly three months ago. Athos seems happy to give in, cuddling up to the man’s sweaty side and enduring the muscled arm slung around his chest and shoulder. D’Artagnan feels as if he’s intruding, but they know he’s there. And he doesn’t want them to sit differently. They make such a hot, sexy picture like this.   
“So, d’Artagnan’s better than you thought, is he?” Porthos asks between a few bites. D’Artagnan draws his knees up to his chest more, conscious of what he’s hiding when both men turn to look at him instead.   
“Yes. Although he had the advantage of surprise by having neglected to tell me he used to fence,” Athos replies.   
“You just immediately assumed so. It’s a bad thing to do that,” d’Artagnan says and Porthos laughs happily.   
“And yet you also assumed I would be worse than this,” Athos points out.   
“Admittedly, yes.”  
“We did tell you he was good,” Porthos says. d’Artagnan blushes and looks away. “Oh, please do tell us what made you think he wasn’t,” d’Artagnan glares at him but both men are looking curious and eventually d’Artagnan scowls.   
“Well, it’s just.. y’know.. you don’t seem to work out a lot. And you do ingest more alcohol than possibly anyone. I didn’t expect you to be.. this fit,” he admits, eyes flicking to the man’s naked chest. And at this Porthos laughs loudly even as Athos himself seems amused.   
“One of the benefits of being with a professional sportsman, d’Artagnan, is that they’ll never let you slack too much,” Athos says, his right hand finding Porthos’ on his chest, though he does turn and glare at Porthos somewhat.   
“As if you mind,” Porthos is completely unimpressed.   
“I do,” Athos says, though it doesn’t sound very heartfelt. Porthos just laughs as he pecks Athos’ cheek. Athos doesn’t relent though, he just keeps glaring.   
“I’mma have to kiss that glare off your face soon if you keep that up,” Porthos warns him. Athos’ lips curl up slightly.   
“Should that be incentive to stop or to continue glaring?” he inquires. Porthos chuckles.   
“Well, really to continue, but you screwed that up.”   
“My apologies. Anyhow, I can’t imagine that must be very comfortable. Aren’t you steaming up inside there?” Athos asks, turning back to d’Artagnan before untangling himself from Porthos and grabbing their bottles, tossing each man his before taking his own.   
“A little,” d’Artagnan admits. His erection had gone down, fortunately.   
“Then take it off,” Porthos shrugs. D’Artagnan still blushes though as he does take it off. He’s not out of shape or anything. It’s just.. he’s always been skinny. And with these two men that’s more obvious than ever. Neither seems to care though.   
“So, how’d you like a quick wrestling lesson as well?” d’Artagnan, suddenly very thankful of Athos’ skill quickly shakes his head. He would surely get an erection again and Porthos couldn’t miss that if they were wrestling.   
“I’m exhausted,” he says.   
“Oh come on, he’s not that good,” Porthos chuckles but he shrugs it off anyway. “Come on then, At,” he says to Athos instead, dragging the man along to the mats.   
“I hate wrestling,” Athos protests, gesturing for d’Artagnan to follow them. D’Artagnan grabs his bottle and follows them, sitting against the other wall instead. From here they were wrestling right in front of his nose and he quickly sees the mistake he made in that.   
They line up and, Porthos being a professional wrestler, he takes it easy at first. He doesn’t charge, but Athos can’t get through his defences. D’Artagnan quickly draws his knees up to his chin again, wrapping his arms around his legs and dropping his chin on his knees. Forget porn, they should just make videos about these two men wrestling each other. D’Artagnan tries not to delve into what it would be like if Aramis was there too. He also tries very hard not to notice their erections. Athos is fully hard, but his loose shorts offer him some slack. Though, of course, it’s still easily visible. Porthos on the other hand isn’t, probably not even half erect unless the man was really small, but his skin tight shorts made every curve stand out.   
He tries very hard to distract his mind from the two men in front of him, thinks of spiders, snakes, shit and anything he can come up with that should really get this ridiculous erection down. But no use. Because every time the word Athos, Porthos, chest, sexy, sweaty and skin jump in. He closes his eyes but that makes it worse, with the images so fresh in his mind and his creative brain it’s easy to imagine all three of them naked and wrestling, Porthos completely hard despite his being used to wrestling. He’s startled when the red of his eyelids turns black and he looks up to find Athos standing there. His erection is still prominent and he’s not hiding it, even if he must know that d’Artagnan has a full view of it from his spot on the ground and Athos’ close proximity.   
“Are you okay?” he asks. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”   
“Mh? No, you didn’t. But you did wear me out,” he offers a smile. Athos isn’t buying it though.   
“That doesn’t look like tired.”   
“Where’s Porthos?”   
“Hall manager came in. Had to take care of something,” Athos sits down opposite to him.   
“Oh,” d’Artagnan answers stupidly.   
“What’s wrong?”  
“What makes you think something’s wrong?” Athos offers a smirk.   
“Getting to know someone goes two ways, d’Artagnan. Just because you get to use it on me more often doesn’t mean I can’t recognize your faces by now,” Athos points out.   
“Nothing’s wrong,” he replies. He’d been reduced to a semi again. His dick was getting real tired of constantly being ignored though. Athos arches a delicate brow. And then, whether it be from his own stubbornness or because he just didn’t want to press d’Artagnan, he sighed and stopped talking about it. D’Artagnan was grateful and after his erection had gone down he got a bit more talkative again. He and Athos were having some small talk when Porthos came back.   
“Porthos?” Athos inquires, raising a brow. The man had a hesitant look on his face, something d’Artagnan hadn’t seen the man do much.   
“It’s nothing,” Porthos replies. Athos doesn’t stop looking worried and Porthos sighs. “I mean it, At. I’m not you,” he teases.   
“Then what’s putting that look on your face?”   
“There’s some minor details I still need to work out before leaving for London. Apparently the hotel we were going to stay at is burned down and they won’t be able accommodate everyone accordingly. And I don’t exactly have much choice,” Porthos points out.   
“There’s plenty of hotels in London. But if you prefer, I might be able to ask my uncle if you can stay at his?” d’Artagnan offers.   
“Your uncle lives there?” Porthos asks.   
“Yes. The entire family on my father’s side. He’d been from England,” d’Artagnan says.   
“Ah. Well, thanks for the offer, but it won’t be necessary. As you said, there are plenty hotels,” Porthos says, offering a large smile. “Are you staying over for dinner tonight, anyway?” he inquires then, as he sits down and drinks a bit.   
“Not that I know off,” d’Artagnan chuckles.   
“Want to?”   
“Sure,” he likes spending time with the three of them. And he’s calmed down significantly now. He’ll enjoy having dinner with them, he’s sure.   
“Good. You’re too skinny,” Porthos adds with a mischievous smile.   
“I’m not a sportsman though. I’m a bookworm,” d’Artagnan protests with a fake whine. Porthos laughs loudly.   
“Ah yes. So is Athos. Doesn’t mean you can’t be sporty too.”  
“Well, I mean, you hate books and I hate it when you have me work out,” Athos points out.   
“But you like fencing.”  
“Yes, but that doesn’t require much muscle. After all, it’s about technique and swiftness. Not poking your foil through your opponent,” Athos argues.   
“Well, anyway, I’d like it if he joins us for dinner,” Porthos says, rolling his eyes. And then Athos heaves himself up, suggesting they continue to fence while Porthos continues his own training. 

He doesn’t get a chance to shower before dinner, nor do they, for they head from the training hall immediately to their apartment. so he kind of smells worse than he’d like. And so do the other two. Aramis is already there as they walk in, cutting up meat and he greets them with a smile and a kiss to Athos and Porthos’ lips and d’Artagnan’s cheek.   
“What are you so happy about?” Porthos asks.   
“What not? I had a lovely little chat with Constance about Lemay today,” he says, eyeing d’Artagnan.   
“Oh?”   
“Yes. Apparently they’re going on a date tonight. Like, an actual date. He’s taking her to Serge’s,” Aramis says. d’Artagnan smiles broadly. Serge’s was the place to take someone on a date. It was a small establishment with lots of romance in the air and the food was excellent.   
“Oh, she’ll enjoy that I’m sure,” d’Artagnan says.   
“Indeed she will. They do make a really good couple the two of them. I don’t know how they’re only getting together now,” Aramis says. d’Artagnan’s face clouds.   
“I take it there is a reason then?” Porthos asks. He didn’t know Constance as well, nor did Athos for that matter, but they’d shared quite a few hours in the musketeers.   
“Unfortunately, yes,” d’Artagnan sighs as Aramis leads them into the living room. He’d put some kind of concoction in the oven.   
“What could have hurt her so, I wonder? She always seems to kind and cheerful.”   
“She always is. But..” he trails off for just a second but then he realizes Constance won’t mind his telling. She likes them and they won’t look at her any less for it, except for if they find out being told by someone who doesn’t like Constance at all. “She has a free spirit, Constance. Her previous boyfriend, Bonacieux, didn’t appreciate that. At all. I’m sure he must’ve made her happy at some point, because they’d been together for four years. They got together when I was in my third year at university and she was so excited about it. But then she told me less and less about him and I figured they’d gotten settled more, wasn’t so completely excited anymore. And then I came back and I found it he’d started being abusive. They only broke up, like, half a year ago. She was scared of leaving him,” d’Artagnan says. The other three look at him with despairing looks on their faces and, Aramis and Athos, sitting on one couch together, had put their hands in each other in silent understanding they would never be that way. “After that, she wasn’t ever really in the mood to start something. I encouraged her from time to time, but I obviously didn’t want to press her too much. I was just.. scared he may find someone else while she was hesitating.”   
“That’s horrible,” Aramis chokes out   
“I’ve met Bonacieux. He seems like vermin of the lowest kind,” Porthos said, scrunching up his nose.  
“You did?” Aramis asks.   
“Yes. He’s the one that runs Bastille, isn’t he?”  
“Yeah,” d’Artagnan answers.   
“Yeah, I had to collect my suit for the championship from him. Basically was kissing my ass in order to get me to come back next time while all the time being unable to wipe the look of distaste for wrestlers out of his face,” Porthos says.   
“Sounds like him, yeah,” Athos says.   
“Maybe I should show him what I can do,” Porthos says. Aramis seems to agree with the sentiment but Athos looks at him intently.   
“If you do that, you’re only going to bring yourself in trouble, Porthos. While I agree that it’s awful what he did and he does deserve no better than the worst, I don’t think Constance is the type who would appreciate you doing that,” he reasons.   
“As much as I would love for you to do that, Athos is right,” d’Artagnan says. “Constance would probably be pissed at you, claiming she doesn’t need a man to stand up for her.”  
“I guess you’re right,” he says, though he’s still visibly upset.   
“I know I’m right,” d’Artagnan says with a smirk. It lightens the mood enough for Aramis to let out a soft chuckle. Then he goes to check in on the food. Porthos gets up and grabs an iPad from the table and sits back.   
“What are you being companionable for?” Aramis asks when he comes back from the kitchen.   
“I need to find us a new hotel. The one we booked is burned down,” Porthos replies, typing it in on google.   
“Oh?”  
“Yeah, they didn’t give me much info. Just that they wouldn’t be able to accommodate all the guests and that we had to find a new one,” Porthos replies, not looking up this time.   
“Are there even any available? It’s a crowded time, there’s more than just the wrestling championships,” Aramis says.   
“That’s why I’m looking into it,” Porthos replies with a grand smile. “Don’t worry, love, I’ll find us something,” Porthos says, pulling Aramis to him for a kiss.   
Porthos looks for a hotel while Aramis suggests they play a game. He comes back carrying a number of them and shows them to d’Artagnan.   
“Which of these?” he asks. He did own an Xbox but there were no Xbox games. Wii and PlayStation. D’Artagnan picks a random one and Aramis smiles delightedly while Athos groans.   
“What?” he asks, looking more closely at the one he picked.   
“Athos doesn’t like to dance.”   
“Dance?” d’Artagnan had made sure not to select the four different Just Dance games Aramis had held up, but apparently he’d still picked a dance game. “I can’t dance,” d’Artagnan complains. Aramis chuckles as he pecks his cheek and turns away happily.   
“Too bad, d’Art, you already picked,” Aramis squeals. He hands each of them a remote and d’Artagnan finds out it’s exactly as just dance, with a different name. He does however, have great fun in the end. Gentleman especially is a hilarious dance, enough so to make Porthos join in for a single game. Athos, though complaining from time to time, seems to enjoy himself too. And Aramis is totally in his element. So much, in fact, he almost forgets about the food until a distinct burnt smell reaches their noses. Aramis curses before going to try and save the food.   
“Never chose a dance game, d’Art. This is what happens,” Porthos laughs.


	9. Painful memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this story now has over a 100 pages in Word, making this the longest story I've ever written :D 
> 
> I do hope you're still enjoying it and don't mind the sometimes incredulous time between updates. It'll get better, I promise. The past weeks have been hectic and the upcoming three will be too, but after that I'll have summer holiday, so I'll have all the time in the world to write and update ^^

D’Artagnan is surprised to find Porthos standing in front of his shop the next morning. He’d slept in slightly and Porthos is having a talk with Treville while he waits. He’s a little hungover again, thanks to their excessive amount of alcohol and the pace at which Athos fills his glass (Porthos and Aramis were saved by drinking beer and Athos wine, d’Artagnan isn’t). He greets the two as he opens up the shop and Porthos walks inside easily, Treville trailing behind him.   
“So, did you find a hotel, Porthos?” d’Artagnan asks. He’d still been searching when he left the day before.   
“Yes, that’s why I’m here actually,” Porthos says, but he doesn’t continue and after an initial frown he lets the man take his time. Treville seems to sense something and he takes off.   
“What’s up?” he asks Porthos.   
“Well.. we did find a hotel. But it’s crowded in London then. We could book a hotel, but not for the three weeks we’d originally be there,” Porthos trails off.   
“Oh?” d’Artagnan urges him on.   
“Yeah, we have to leave two weeks early. He’s not taken to it very well, I fear. He’s already drunk. I realize you have the shop to run, but I have to arrange some things tonight and Aramis has the evening shift. Could you go over after closing time?”  
“I can go over now if you want?” he offers.   
“That’s okay. I’ve taken today off to help him and Aramis already had the day off. I only came here in person rather than just calling because I’m 100% sure he won’t be opening the door tonight so you’ll need a key,” he says, handing d’Artagnan one.   
“Yeah, I mean, I’ll try my best,” d’Artagnan says, nodding determinedly. Porthos offers a small smile and envelops him in a bear hug.   
“You’re the best friend anyone could ever hope for,” Porthos whispers into his ear. “Thank you,” he doesn’t know what to say to that and apparently Porthos doesn’t expect him to because he takes his leave to go back to Athos. 

He worries throughout the day and is selfishly glad nobody walks into the shop that day. He’s just about to close up when Aramis walks past on his way to the hospital.   
“I can’t thank you enough for this,” Aramis tells him.   
“It’s the least I can do.”   
“No, it’s not. But we all appreciate it, even if Athos will probably resent you tonight. Just, don’t take it personal okay? He actually does like you. That’s rare enough in and on itself. He doesn’t mean anything he says when he’s like this. And if he isn’t like that, he’ll be very touchy tonight. It’s one out of two.”   
“I have to admit, I didn’t expect him to..” he doesn’t know how to continue for a moment. Aramis just smiles softly, letting him know he understands. “I mean, I realize that I must get very lonely to be alone when you’re constantly surrounded normally, but he acted as if he didn’t mind at all when I asked him why he didn’t just join you.”  
“He.. has a complicated past. Normally this wouldn’t bother him. But today is a grave day for him and to have heard that we’re leaving two weeks early to top it off doesn’t help,” d’Artagnan wants to ask why they didn’t just wait until tomorrow then, but refrains from doing so. Aramis notices. “We didn’t actually tell him,” he trails off and sighs then and looks as if he wants to say more but doesn’t know how to. “Can we go inside?”  
“Sure,” d’Artagnan opens the door again and then locks it behind him, realizing why Aramis was being like this.   
“All hotels were taken, basically, was the problem. We didn’t need more than one room for three weeks, but even then it was a disaster to find any. Porthos called around and called around all morning, and eventually he managed to discover there were two rooms still available. One was only available if we left tomorrow though, and well, we didn’t want to put him through that. He’d be alone for two entire months. The other one however,” Aramis sighs and then braces himself. “We needed his money to rent it, so we didn’t have a choice but to tell him. We tried to hide it at first. But.. he’s not stupid, you know.”  
“I’m not judging you,” d’Artagnan says, seeing the worry in Aramis eyes. And the man looks so utterly miserable that d’Artagnan can’t help but wrap him up in his arms, hugging his friend tightly to him. “I don’t judge you at all.”   
“Thank you, d’Art,” Aramis whispers back and hugs him even more tightly, clinging onto him for dear life it seems. They stand like that for some time, offering silent comfort, before Aramis seems to catch himself. “Oh dear God, I’m going to be late as hell. Good luck, d’Art, and don’t forget whatever he says tonight in resentment isn’t meant,” Aramis says before hurrying off. D’Artagnan takes off in direction of their apartment rather than his own, he’d initially wanted to change first, but he thinks the dye-covered clothes will have to do tonight. It’s dried anyhow.   
He reaches it maybe ten minutes later and he doesn’t bother knocking first, simply uses the key Porthos gave him to let himself in. He closes the door rather louder than strictly necessary though to let Athos know of his presence. He walks into the living room and then the kitchen. The kitchen is strewn with enough wine bottles to make an elephant drunk, but Athos himself isn’t there. He checks the toilet but he’s not there either. Then he walks up the stairs. He hasn’t been up before, but all the doors are open so he quickly sees their bedroom and Athos in it. He walks over to him.   
He’s sitting on the ground, head on the edge of the bed, empty bottle of wine on the ground next to him and he sounds like he’s choking on heart wrenched sobs. He doesn’t even seem to realize he’s not alone.   
“Athos?” d’Artagnan asks, before closing the distance between them and putting his hand on Athos shoulder. Athos turns to look at him.   
“D’Artagnan?” he manages between his heaves.   
“Yeah, I’m here,” he answers, sitting down on the carpet next to him.   
“You are,” he says sounding very surprised. D’Artagnan is waiting for any indication on whether the man was going to be resenting or touchy. So far he’s neither. Just surprised and confused and very, very heartbrokenly sobbing. “You’re here,” he says then, when it finally actually reaches his brain. And then he throws the bottle aside and wraps his arms around d’Artagnan. The strength has probably left his arms a long time ago, by the number of empty bottles he’s seen so far, but he still manages to pull d’Artagnan to him.   
“Yeah, Athos, I’m here,” he assures the man, patting his back awkwardly. He’d never seemed to be opposed to physical touch, but he hadn’t quite ever searched out any touch with anyone outside of his little trio. He doesn’t know if the man actually appreciated it or if he just needs to be grounded or if d’Artagnan needs to do more. He just doesn’t know what the man needs.   
“Stay here?” Athos pleads.  
“I was planning to,” d’Artagnan answers. Athos looks at his eyes. His own ones, more grey than usual, bore into his. Unfocused as they are, he still seems to find what he’s looking for, for he nods intently and then, leans fully against d’Artagnan, his whole body going limp. D’Artagnan manages to catch him despite his surprise. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to,” he’s more sure of what he’s doing is good now, with Athos so going slack against him. So he continues to pat the man’s shoulder as he rubs small circles into his lower back. Athos’ already completely slack, can’t relax more fully than he already is, but he does make a noise that sounds pleased.   
They just sit there, like that, for the longest time. It’s very possible an hour has passed alternating between soft sobbing and heart wrenching sobs before it goes mostly silent. But then Athos, who’d d’Artagnan believed had dosed off, makes a noise of displeasure.   
“What is it?” d’Artagnan asks   
“Toilet,” he mumbles. D’Artagnan recognizes he won’t be able to walk there by himself so he gets up himself before helping Athos do so, taking him into the bathroom. He doubts for a moment if he should leave, but d’Artagnan recognizes that’s not a good idea as soon as he lets go even the slightest bit. Athos immediately stumbles before d’Artagnan catches him again. His hands fumble with his zipper and then, when he finally has it open, he can’t see to get his dick through. D’Artagnan helps him, undoing the belt and button so he can reach more easily and then Athos clearly decides to just let d’Artagnan finish it.   
“Oh, Athos, you shouldn’t drink so much,” d’Artagnan says, feeling sorry for the man. Whatever had happened in his past, and d’Artagnan truly had no idea what that was, must’ve been god awful to reduce the man to this. He does, however, take Athos dick in his hand and aims it into the toilet before tucking him away when he’s done and dragging them back to the bedroom. This time d’Artagnan makes sure to put the man on the bed. Athos pulls him along. He doesn’t say a word, but he cuddles up to d’Artagnan so tightly, d’Artagnan has no incentive to leave his friend in this state.   
“Don’t worry, Athos. I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “But you would do well to lie properly my friend,” Athos makes a noncommittal noise of agreement but doesn’t move. D’Artagnan does though, pulling Athos along. He’s like a dead weight, but at least he’s pliant enough. He lets himself be guided until his head is one of the pillows and his feet are mostly in the direction of the other side of the bed. He doesn’t, even at one point, let go of d’Artagnan completely. They lay like that for a long time before Athos finally seems to fall asleep, finally not sobbing anymore.  
D’Artagnan walks into the bathroom carefully after a few more minutes to get some water for himself. When he returns, Athos almost seems pained even in his stupidly drunk sleep. He comes back and Athos’ face relaxes minutely at the touch. D’Artagnan, with all the time in the world to think now that his friend is asleep, finds his mind drifting off from the man and his misery long enough to take in his surroundings. He’d been so focused on Athos he hadn’t even noticed their walls are silver and there’s a bunch of pictures of the three of them together. He looks at them. They’re obviously taken at various intervals, at one Athos’ hair is short, another one Aramis’ hair is longer than it is now and at one Porthos’ eye is slit open. Whatever happened, it’s left a scar, d’Artagnan had noticed it before.   
And then he takes in that the floor is carpeted with a flush carpet, making it comfortable to walk bare-footed. The bed is large, but then, it has to be to have three grown men sleep in it. He spares a moment to realize it’s bigger than he would expect even then, but just at that moment Athos starts sobbing again and he turns to his friend fully again. He’s apparently still asleep, but he cuddles up more tightly to d’Artagnan seeking out the touch. D’Artagnan lets him and wraps his arms around him. His sobbing lessens, though it doesn’t disappear entirely.   
He’s dozed off himself at some point and now he wakes up when the bed dips in. He’d still been alert, afraid Athos might do something to himself, so he’s awake in less than a moment. Porthos chuckles softly and puts a calming hand on his shoulder.   
“Hush, it’s just me. Athos is still asleep,” he says. He’s in sweatpants and apparently was about to get into bed. D’Artagnan finds himself surprised at how long the man must’ve been inside already. He’d thought he’d have woken sooner. He climbs in then and through his haze and his worry for Athos, he doesn’t even realize that he’s still in that bed too. He falls asleep pretty quickly. 

He doesn’t wake until the next morning when an alarm goes off. He’s surprised when it stops before he’s located it and then he realizes two things at the same time. The ‘nightstand’ he’d been feeling has curly hair and there’s a warmth against him that can’t come from anything but another body. And then the last shock comes in when he feels the same warmth on his other side.   
He blinks awake alertly and looks at Aramis, who’s head is under his hand and Athos, still pressed up as tightly against d’Artagnan as he had fallen asleep. He reasons the other source of warmth can only be Porthos.   
“Thanks for the thorough wake up, d’Art, but I’m not an alarm button,” Aramis seems entirely too amused for the amount of time he’s been awake but d’Artagnan is too surprised to care. He carefully entangles himself from Athos grip, only to find Porthos apparently had a grip on him as well and then he goes to untangle himself from that one too. It has the desired result as he’s standing and they’re sleeping and Aramis is chuckling softly not to wake them up.   
“I’m late. Again. You guys are bad for my shop,” he says just as softly. And then he notices how the bed easily seems to have enough space for the four of them to be in there just before he realizes his shirt has been taken off. “Where’s my shirt?” Aramis gets out of bed as well and tosses it to him. then he grabs his own clothes and puts them on, leading d’Artagnan downstairs.   
“Thank you,” Aramis says. “I take it he was touchy then?”   
“Yes,” d’Artagnan replies. “How did I not notice you taking my shirt off?”  
“You were deep in sleep. I’m more surprised I managed to untangle the two of you enough to actually succeed,” Aramis says. d’Artagnan finds himself momentarily surprised that he was untangled and somehow found himself just as tangled when he woke up.   
“I put the key over there, by the way,” he says to distract himself.   
“Oh, it’s a spare one. You can have it,” Aramis says, shrugging casually. Then he catches d’Artagnan’s look and smiles. “I trust you, d’Art. We all do.” He decides not to argue and simply puts it with his own keys.   
“So, is he like that more often?” d’Artagnan asks as Aramis gives him some toast.   
“Every year. But other than that? He has the occasional break down if something reminds him of his past, but he’s gotten a lot better. Even if he still tries to drink the memories away,” Aramis replies.   
“Do you know what happened?” he inquires. Aramis looks up at him. He’d not meant to ask the man to tell him, but something about the way Aramis breached the subject made him suspect he doesn’t know. Aramis senses this and sighs.   
“No. He’s opened up about a lot of things. He even went as far as to admit he was married once. But he’s never once gave us more indication than that.”   
“It must’ve been god-awful. I really thought he might.. might try and hurt himself,” d’Artagnan says.   
“It must’ve been. Whatever happened, he’s still suffering from it now. He was a lot worse when we just met him. But I don’t think if he’ll ever be.. good again,” Aramis sighs, sounding defeated. D’Artagnan hugs the man. Aramis seems to appreciate it, for he leans his shoulder on d’Artagnan’s and his arms lock around his waist. “I just.. sometimes I wonder, despite everything Athos says, that we’re not good enough for him. I don’t mean to sound as if I can make everything better. But I’d thought, after all this time, he’d at least trust enough to confide in us,” Aramis says.   
“I don’t think that’s the problem, Aramis. Sometimes things are just too difficult to bare talking about, even with those you love and trust the most,” d’Artagnan says. Aramis is still holding him and he squeezes gently in silent thanks.   
“I have to get to work. And you have a store to run. But if you want, you can always come back here afterward,” Aramis offers as he lets go. D’Artagnan nods and takes his jacket.   
“I’ll consider it, but I’m fairly sure I should at least shower this time,” d’Artagnan chuckles as pries off some dye from his forearm. Aramis laughs and together they head out. 

The store is calm as ever, but Constance comes by that afternoon.   
“Hey,” she greets him.   
“Constance! How was your date?” he asks. Between everything he hadn’t even had time to talk to her about it. She brightens up considerably when he asks though.   
“It was fantastic. He’s such a great man, d’Art. And he’s so kind and considerate. And Serge’s always a good place,” she chuckles softly.   
“Mh, good to hear it. You deserve nothing less than fantastic,” he says with a wink.   
“Oh, d’Art. Where were you anyway? I visited you last night, but you weren’t there and Ninon hadn’t seen you either.”  
“I was at the trio’s,” he says. People had dubbed them that and they didn’t seem to mind at all, and it was so much easier than saying all three of their names when he was with them.   
“Oh?” she asks. “You’re spending a lot of time with them.”  
“They’re good friends,” d’Artagnan shrugs.   
“Yes, but.. maybe more?” she inquires. D’Artagnan rolls his eyes.   
“They’re already in a threesome, Con. What good would I do there.”  
“But you would be interested?” d’Artagnan refrains from groaning. He should’ve known it was coming. But if he groaned now he would definitely be busted.  
“Con, just because I hang out with them a lot doesn’t mean I’m interested. We hang out a lot and I’m not in love with you,” he points out.   
“Mh, you tell yourself that. Maybe one day I will actually believe it,” she smirks. They talk some more but she has to get on her way, leaving d’Artagnan to his own again. He hadn’t been expecting Athos to show up today, so he’s not disappointed he doesn’t show up.  
Until, half an hour before closing time, Athos does show up. He doesn’t look good. His skin is paler than usual and his eyes are red. His hair is even wilder than usual and his clothes look as if he rolled out of bed and into the street.   
“Hungover?” d’Artagnan inquires half teasingly. He speaks softly though and Athos sends him a glare with just the tiniest hint of appreciation in it.   
“Indeed,” he answers when d’Artagnan puts some cold water in front of him. He drinks it in silence and then continues standing there in silence. D’Artagnan, having been busy anyway, doesn’t press him. Eventually he does turn around to face d’Artagnan again.   
“I came to thank you,” he says.   
“You didn’t need to, but not a problem,” d’Artagnan replies. Then Athos steps up to him and puts a hand on his shoulder, making d’Artagnan turn around.   
“I mean it. You didn’t need to do it either. Yet you were there. Even though you had no idea what happened or what you needed to do, you were there. That’s not something anyone would do,” Athos says it so seriously d’Artagnan is subdued for a moment. Then, after the longest time, he just nods  
“What brings you here anyway? I thought Aramis would’ve told you I’m coming over again,” he wonders.   
“Aramis is still at the hospital. I’m sure he must’ve texted but my phone.. died.”  
“Oh. And he didn’t tell Porthos?”   
“I don’t know,” he admits. “I only saw Porthos minutely today. So close to the championship he can’t actually afford to miss any day in training. He already did yesterday. He stayed long enough to make sure I wasn’t too ill and to make sure I knew when they would both be home but he did really have to leave,” Athos sighs. And then he walks over to the chair and sits down. “I was feeling horrible so I didn’t notice the state of my phone until I left the apartment,” he says. He holds up something somewhat resembling a phone. If not for all the cracks and even a dent in it.   
“I feel sorry for that thing,” d’Artagnan says.   
“Oh well, I’ll just go get a new one Sunday,” Athos shrugs easily.   
“You do realize it’s only Wednesday, right?” d’Artagnan makes sure.   
“You do realize you’re one out of a grand total of six people who have my number, right? I think I can manage until then,” Athos points out. “I did promise to help you with that. I haven’t been such a great help so far. And I won’t be today.”  
“You don’t have to,” d’Artagnan says, but there’s a casual air about it. He realizes there’s something else behind it and he doesn’t need to know what. Athos doesn’t reply at all.   
“I guess I’ll head back then,” he says after a long silence. D’Artagnan looks at the clock to see it’s 6 already. He gets up.   
“You can come with me, if you want?” he offers. He doesn’t believe for a second Athos only came to apologize to him. Much more likely he just doesn’t want to be alone. Athos nods gratefully and they head to d’Artagnan’s own apartment. unlike theirs, his is messy. It’s not a grand total mess, like his shared room at university had been, but it’s messy enough to have d’Artagnan conscious about it. Athos, however, doesn’t seem to mind.   
“I’m going to take a quick shower, but you’re welcome to just watch some TV or something,” he tosses the remote at the man before heading through the living room into his bedroom. He had a single floor apartment (considering he was alone and not with three) and everything more or less flowed into each other. He’s aware of that, considering his clothes can’t be in his shower unless he wants them wet and he needs to cross through the living room in no more than a towel.   
He’s about to join Athos on his couch, washed and dressed, ten minutes later when his phone rings. He walks into the bedroom, where he’d left it, and picks up to find a distressed Aramis on the other side. He walks back into the living room.   
“d’Artagnan, have you seen Athos? Porthos says he was still at home when he left him and we’ve both tried calling him and he’s not answering. I know the shop-”   
“Yeah, his phone’s broken. Here he is,” d’Artagnan interrupts Aramis before he has to hear whatever the hell else they might’ve thought and hands the phone to Athos.   
“Athos?! Why didn’t you just alert us we couldn’t call you? We have a home phone you know,” Aramis scolds, sounding exasperated, loud enough that d’Artagnan can still hear him clearly.   
“I didn’t realize until after I left,” Athos only replies.   
“And you didn’t think maybe you could somehow let us know anyway? We were worried,” Athos sighs and rolls his eyes.  
“Aramis, you’re not my mother. I can take care of myself. Besides, I was with d’Artagnan the whole time,” he says. There’s some more arguing before eventually Aramis calms down enough to complain about their worry getting in the way of preparing food.   
“We could just order a pizza?” d’Artagnan offers from his huddled up spot on the couch. He’d been watching TV while they argued. Athos voices this to Aramis.   
“How long is it from here to us?” Athos asks after a reply.   
“’Bout twenty minutes.”  
“We’ll be there in half an hour,” Athos says before hanging up. D’Artagnan’s about to put on his shoes a moment later and he manages one before his phone buzzes again.   
“What now?” he asks when he realizes it’s Aramis.   
“Apparently, we live out of range to order a pizza and Porthos is already here. Can we eat at yours instead?” he replies.   
“Oh. Uh, it’ll be a tight fit, but I’m sure we can manage,” he replies.   
“Okay, we’ll be there in a few then,” Aramis says, putting the phone down again. Athos arches a brow and turns to face him.   
“They’re coming here. Apparently, Johnny decided you live too far off,” d’Artagnan says. He has one couch that’s comfortable enough with two, fit but uncomfortable with three but just about impossible with four. And he has two eating room chairs. He somehow manages to get them placed around the couch in such a way they can communicate and watch TV between the four of them before he sits back down on the couch.   
Aramis and Porthos apparently decided to take the car because there’s no way they could reach it this fast by foot. D’Artagnan welcomes them in and sits back down on the couch. Rather than taking one of the chairs, Aramis squeezes himself between Athos and d’Artagnan on the couch. D’Artagnan isn’t really surprised, but it does pose that he’s unable to squeeze out and it’s uncomfortable. There seems to be a moment where Athos realizes this before anyone else and he pulls Aramis half into his lap, making it seem like a hug.   
“So, let’s order pizza then,” Aramis says, after a quick kiss with Athos. D’Artagnan grabs his phone from his pocket and thumbs through their choices, letting each make their choice, before they eventually just settle for a family-pizza with some meat on it.   
They watched TV while waiting, considering that’s what they’d been doing before Aramis and Porthos joined, and they continued to do so while eating. Aramis, who’d somehow managed to escape Athos’ arms enough to half lean against d’Artagnan as well (which had gone gently enough d’Artagnan hadn’t really noticed until he’d wanted to grab his phone and couldn’t), eventually decided that was too boring and started feeding Athos. Athos glared at him, pointedly taking a bite out of his own piece.   
“Athos! You’re no fun,” Aramis whines.   
“I’m perfectly capable of feeding myself,” Athos says, not indulging Aramis in this. D’Artagnan was chuckling slightly as Aramis kept trying to, but then karma repaid him by having Aramis focus his attention on him instead. Aramis holds up the piece of pizza for him and though he refuses at first, somehow Aramis manages to convince him it’s a good idea (it’s probably because he’s a lot less resistant to the wine Athos had found in his kitchen than said man), and he finds himself eating from Aramis’ piece and feeding Aramis his own instead. It at least seems like it’s amusing to Porthos and Athos, what with Athos having a larger smile than ever and Porthos laughing rather loudly. D’Artagnan whines about that even if he accepts the next piece.   
“We should play a game,” Aramis declares then.   
“No, we should not,” Athos immediately jumps in. Porthos groans. D’Artagnan just looks confused, probably, because Athos gives him signs that he should just agree with them.   
“Yes, we should. Don’t you agree d’Artagnan?” looking between the other two men he slowly shakes his head.   
“I don’t think I do?”   
“Don’t listen to those two. I never do anyway,” he chuckles loudly at the noises of confirmed exasperation from ‘those two’.   
“What game are you even talking about? Xbox?”   
“No, thank fuck, I hate Xbox. Why do you think we don’t have one. I’m talking about truth or dare,” Aramis says, making it sound mysterious and actually likeable.   
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” d’Artagnan says. But he should really have known better, for if Aramis wants something, that’s usually what he gets and ten minutes later finds them agreeing to it, if only because Aramis gets very annoying if they don’t.


	10. Truth or dare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am truly sorry about the late update. It wasn't meant to be, considering the holidays. However, I have recently received some bad news that I needed to deal with and it has kept my mind rather occupied. 
> 
> Fortunately I still have some chapters pre-written, because my creativity is rather far-fetched at the moment. I'll upload two chapters for now, and I will try and make my updates weekly until September the first but I can give no guarantee. 
> 
> Enjoy (this was by the way one of my favorite chapters to write ^^)

D’Artagnan is seated opposite to Athos with Aramis on his left and Porthos on his right side. They’re seated on the ground, gathered around an empty wine bottle (which really was the whole cause of this damned situation in the first place) and they agree that whoever the bottle lands on will have to be the one to be challenged. The first spin goes to Aramis and it lands on Athos.   
“Truth or dare?”   
“Dare.”   
“I dare you to prank call Ninon to ask about whether or not she sells vibrators,” he says. Athos looks about to protest before realizing how futile it would be against Aramis. Then he holds out his hand. “What?”  
“I’m going to need a phone. Mine’s broken,” he says, taking the remnant of it out of his pocket.   
“Oh, yeah, I forgot,” Aramis admits, handing him his. He puts it on speaker.  
“Ninon,” Ninon picks up.   
“Good evening, madame. I would like to enquire about your assortment at Ninon’s. I realize the late hour, but the subject I would breach is hardly one that bears discussing in the shop itself,” Athos says and d’Artagnan, even through his wine clouded brain, immediately hears the difference in his tone and realizes with a start that’s how Athos had spoken to him once. Cultured and impersonal.   
“Certainly? May I enquire who I’m speaking with?” Ninon, classically raised, matches his tone.   
“For the sake of not yet knowing whether you have the item I look for, I’d rather not reveal my person.”   
“What item are you looking for then, monsieur?”   
“It would be a vibrator,” Athos’ cultured voice makes it somehow sound more dirty. D’Artagnan very briefly wonders what it’d be like if he was trying to speak dirty. Then he banishes it from his brain.   
“I do sell those, yes. An assortment of them.”  
“Ah yes, but..” Athos pauses for a moment, apparently remembering that was the only part of the dare. He looks around for a moment and then he decides to please them (in particular Aramis, who looks to be having the time of his life). “These are for women,” he ends.   
“Ah? And what specifically is it that makes the difference?”   
“Women’s vibrators typically stimulate the g-spot. I would require one for a prostate,” Athos says slowly. The corners of his lips have turned slightly up.   
“I will have to check if any I sell specify for that. What do you say you call me back tomorrow?”   
“Very well, madame. I thank you in advance,” he says, hanging up.   
“You do realize she has Aramis’ number? She’ll know it was you,” Porthos points out. Athos shrugs.   
“I am obviously not straight, am I? What do I need to hide it for?” this makes them all laugh, even if Athos still looks confused.   
“Yeah but.. Athos, there’s a difference between knowing someone is.. well.. not straight and.. knowing they’re not straight,” d’Artagnan says when the other two are still laughing loudly and Athos’ confusion doesn’t seem to disappear.   
“What?”   
“Have you ever seen a woman buy a vibrator?”   
“Yes.”  
“Often?”  
“Yes,” d’Artagnan looks confused now. Porthos laughs even louder. Aramis, however, takes it upon himself to explain that.   
“He worked at a sex shop for a few months,” he says. d’Artagnan chokes on the wine he’d just brought to his mouth.   
“What? You worked in a sex shop? I thought you said you didn’t work but even then.. a sex shop?”   
“I didn’t say I never worked. I said I only worked short periods of time. I happened to like working there, so I remained there longer than most other places.”   
“What- how did you even end up there?”   
“Someone may or may not have caught onto me spying in the locker room at the fencing studio and asked me about it. I then realized he was looking for someone in his shop and I offered to try out,” Athos says as if it’s no big deal at all that their resident cultured, stick up his arse (to the rest of the world at least) freaking count happened to work in a sex shop. His face is probably even better than the rest of it, for Aramis and Porthos literally almost choke on their own laughter.   
“I can’t with you three. I just can’t,” d’Artagnan declares. “It’s your turn,” he tells Athos. Athos turns the bottle and it just so happens to land on d’Artagnan. Which he really should’ve figured.   
“Truth or dare?”  
“Truth.”  
“Why is it so strange that I used to work in a sex shop?”   
“Why it’s strange? You really want me to delve into that?” Athos nods. “Well, for one, you sound as if you’ve literally been forced a stick up your arse and it resides there permanently. For another one, you just always make it seem as if.. well.. as if you’re not interested in that sort of thing,” he coughs a little awkwardly at Porthos’ laugh and Aramis smirk at that statement. He doesn’t need to know about their sex life. Does not need to know. Does not need to visualize what they do in that giant ass bed of theirs and how that stick came up his arse. “And three.. well, like I said, I thought you said you never worked,” he ends rather lamely. He then very quickly spins the bottle and it catches on Aramis’ feet enough to slow down to end on Athos. D’Artagnan gets a vague idea that Aramis did that entirely on purpose.   
“Truth or dare?”  
“Truth.”  
“Why did you like working in a sex shop?” Athos actually looks like he’s thinking it over.   
“I like the casual acquaintances you make. People make small talk but never actually want to know about you. Unlike the people in this fucking whole in the map,” Athos pulls a face. “You find out what else is out there aside from what you already know about it. And I have kinks that aren’t generally accepted, but people in a sex shop generally are more open minded about that sort of thing. So you can actually talk about it without being judged straight away,” Athos finishes. D’Artagnan tries very hard not to think about what those kinks might be. It’s bad enough as it is. Athos spins the bottle, landing on Porthos.   
“Dare,” Porthos says before Athos can open his mouth. Athos gets a very mischievous glint on his face that makes Porthos groan before he even hears it.   
“Call Ninon back. And tell her that you want an anal fantasy kit deluxe and if she can get it,” he instructs.   
“What’s an anal fantasy kit deluxe?” d’Artagnan asks before he can stop himself. But Porthos saves him by reasoning he at least needs to know that.   
“There’s beads,” Athos starts, looking thoughtful, “usually two pairs. Love balls. At least two normal butt plugs and one vibrating one. And a special anal vibrator,” Athos seems to add the last one on an afterthought and d’Artagnan, despite his very specific desire not to want to think about it, finds himself wondering how normal Athos thinks an anal vibrator is. Porthos nods, then takes Aramis’ phone again (who only seems to complain because that seems expected) and dials Ninon, putting her on speaker again.   
“Ninon,” she picks up.   
“Hi, madame,” Porthos says. “We just called about an anal vibrator?” he says, glaring determinedly Athos’ way. Athos shrugs it off casually, leaning back on his hands.   
“Ah yes, though that sounded like someone else?”  
“Yes, we’re in a relation. We wanted to spice it up a bit, but we found something better. We realize you probably don’t have it, but maybe there’s a chance you could order it in for us?”  
“There might be a chance, yes. What would this be?”   
“An anal fantasy kit deluxe,” Porthos replies. There’s a silence on the other end of the line that d’Artagnan easily interprets as Ninon trying not to laugh.   
“Ah. Yes, I’ll see if I can get it. Should I just call you back on this number, Athos and Porthos?” she asks then. Porthos reddens, Athos does not.   
“If that would be more convenient for you, madame,” Athos replies instead.   
“Very well. Good night gentlemen,” she says, putting down the phone.   
“You’re the devil, At,” Porthos says even as he spins the bottle. It lands on Aramis, who grins broadly.  
“Dare,” he says.   
“I dare you to..” he trails off, thinking it over. “To give us a show,” he says then, leaning back with a grand smirk on his face. Aramis, on the other hand, seems nothing but pleased as he gets up.   
“I’ma need some music. D’Art?” he asks. D’Artagnan goes to take his laptop and hands it over to Aramis, who puts on.. you guessed it. I’m too sexy by right said Fred. D’Artagnan and Porthos actually start laughing even as Aramis starts dancing and taking his vest off. He wraps it around Porthos neck before being back in time to take off his shirt when that piece of the song comes up. And then he just dances through the refrain before taking off his trousers as well during the next piece. For a moment, d’Artagnan is pretty worried he’s going to take his boxer briefs off as well, but he only dances some more before sitting down again with a big smile on his face and d’Artagnan relaxes again.   
“Truth or dare?” Aramis asks after still more alcohol and less clothes (they were all sitting in their underwear, aside from d’Artagnan and Porthos who still had their trousers on) for all parties involved. The bottle had landed on Athos, who mumbles ‘dare’ between sips of wine. D’Artagnan had noticed that questions between the three were usually dares and if d’Artagnan landed on them it would be truth. “Does it count if it’s something for tomorrow?” Aramis asks after a thoughtful silence.   
“Sure,” Porthos mumbles even as Athos doesn’t give any indication whether he cares or not.   
“I dare you to wear a vibrating butt plug tomorrow and I get to have the remote,” Aramis says, looking mischievous and challenging. Whether it be from the wine or, as d’Artagnan had learned today, Athos’ lack of shame regarding acts of sexuality, he agrees to it easily. Athos spins. It lands on Porthos.   
“Dare,” Porthos says.  
“Remove your trousers,” Athos says. Porthos, who’s apparently a show off in certain things, makes the act seem more sensual than it should be. Porthos spins the bottle and it lands back on Athos.   
“Dare,” he says.   
“Kiss d’Artagnan,” Porthos says without preamble. D’Artagnan, who’d been tired and drunk, takes a moment to register what he’d just said. Athos had no such problem and d’Artagnan found the man already kneeling in front of him before he could properly realize what that meant. And then, before he can even think about protesting, Athos’ lips are on his. They’re surprisingly soft for a man so.. stoic, but they’re definitely not mistakable for a woman’s. And also, the softness of his lips is evened out by the firmness of his movements and, as soon as d’Artagnan’s brain allows him to react to Athos, he licks d’Artagnan’s lips, asking for entrance. His body is ahead of his brain at this moment, obviously, because he should probably not have opened up to Athos. But then his tongue is licking along the line of d’Artagnan’s own one and it’s amazing.   
And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the soft warmth of Athos’ lips against his is gone and his tongue has retracted as well. D’Artagnan’s not sure if he actually does let out a whimper, but he wouldn’t be surprised. He’d kissed a lot of people in his life, and while it’s true that Athos isn’t the best one (drunk kissing is slightly off-putting after all), d’Artagnan found himself wanting more than ever. He wanted Athos to kiss him again. Wanted to properly join this time.   
And then, just like that, Athos is spinning the bottle again. Through the alcohol, exhaustion, want and his confusion at what had just happened, he doesn’t even realize who it lands on or what they dare/truth is or anything until they’re all looking at him. It takes him another moment to realize the bottle had landed on him and Aramis seems to be the one who spun it.   
“Truth,” he says, very afraid of doing a dare at this point.   
“How did you like your kiss?” Aramis asks. And that’s the moment d’Artagnan officially declares him the devil. He can even visualise the horns. For a moment he just doesn’t know what to say. These three men confuse him more than anyone else ever could and he’s not sure whether they’d appreciate him having liked the kiss or not. Aramis is looking amused, Athos is looking passive (d’Artagnan isn’t sure he even realizes what’s causing the hesitation and Porthos takes pity on him.  
“It’s okay, d’Art. We don’t mind either way,” the big man says, putting his hand on d’Artagnan’s shoulder. Aramis is still looking amused.   
“I thought it was great,” he admits and who can blame him if it comes out sounding a little choked.   
“Why?” Aramis continues. D’Artagnan doesn’t want to delve into that until he has more time to figure it out for himself (even if he did weeks ago).   
“Don’t you think he’s a good kisser then?” d’Artagnan asks instead. There’s a cunning smile on Aramis’ face that lets d’Artagnan know he’s onto him.   
“He is. An excellent kisser. Not the best in France, obviously, that’s me, but a close runner-up. The way his lips are soft and the moves firm. The way his moustache and beard tickle your skin. The way his tongue licks inside your mouth,” Aramis says. d’Artagnan forgets, for just a second, the presence of the other two men, focussing on Aramis. His penis had a hard job of getting erect with the amount of alcohol consumed, but it’s definitely taken an interest despite that.   
“Enough about my kissing. D’Artagnan, it’s your turn,” Athos says, seemingly exasperated even if he’s a little flushed. Thanks to their unclothed situations, he doesn’t have to wonder if it had the same effect on them. They’ve all got tents in their respective underwear, even if none of them seem to be fully hard aside from Athos. And none of them seem to be even the slightest bit ashamed. Whatever the reason for this predicament, d’Artagnan decides to spin the bottle against his better judgement. He’ll already be going to hell for this. It lands on Athos.   
“Truth,” the man says with an arched brow.   
“How drunk are you really?” d’Artagnan asks. There had been several things that led d’Artagnan to believe he was a lot less drunk than he let d’Artagnan believe. For one, he seemed to be able to focus clearly. For two, he seemed to actually be able to form conscious thoughts. Three, there was not that much of a pause between when he was said something and when it registered. And four, he was fully hard. The question earns him a mischievous smile and a remarkably well-executed wink, but no verbal answer. There’s really no need for it. That smile and wink together told him more than enough. And then he grabs the bottle and spins it. This time it lands on Porthos.   
“Dare,” Porthos says.   
“Kiss d’Artagnan,” Athos says without preamble, returning the favour. D’Artagnan, when he does realize what’s happening (faster this time fortunately) just wants to strangle the life out of his so-called friends at that point. But Porthos lets out a boisterous laugh and pulls d’Artagnan to him. His kiss is just about opposite to Athos. Where his lips are firm, his movements are soft and gentle, even if he’s very insistent about getting d’Artagnan to allow him entrance. His strong arms, already around d’Artagnan thanks to being pulled there, tighten a little and d’Artagnan can’t help but react and kiss back. More actively this time, having been expecting it. Porthos makes a noise of approval before finally releasing d’Artagnan.   
“What a lucky bastard you are,” Aramis chuckles and when d’Artagnan turns to look at him there’s a flush about him that’s only matched by Athos (and possibly d’Artagnan himself, but fortunately he can’t see that).   
“Want to kiss him as well then?” Porthos inquires, turning the bottle to face Aramis.   
“Dare,” Aramis laughs.   
“Kiss d’Artagnan,” Porthos sounds amused as he pecks d’Artagnan’s cheek before sending him over to Aramis. His brain is a strange but pleasant combination of alcohol and arousal and he falls into Aramis’ arms easily. And then Aramis’ lips are there and these are soft as well and his movements are passionate but gentle and he allows him entrance easily this time and somewhere he realizes he should probably object to being passed around like this, but he likes it so much he decides to actually actively lick into Aramis’ mouth instead, playing around with their tongues before Aramis draws back again. And just when Aramis is about to say something, everything catches up to him and he actually faints.


	11. Athos and his freaking alcohol tolerance

When he does awake the next day he realizes two things. This is the hangover from hell. And he’s not alone. It takes a long moment before d’Artagnan is conscious enough that Aramis actually notices he’s awake but when he does he puts a hand on d’Artagnan’s head.   
“Are you even remotely okay?” Aramis whispers. D’Artagnan doesn’t move at all, but that seems to be enough of an answer. “Unfortunately, not even nurses have anything better for a hangover than aspirin and unhealthy food. Fortunately, I have both of those prepared,” Aramis says after walking into the kitchen and he returns with a plate with bacon, scrambled egg and toast and a cup of water and aspirin.   
“Thanks,” he manages. But he doesn’t move to take any of it yet.   
“Porthos and I have to go. But we’ll come and take care of you tonight if need be,” Aramis says. There’s some shuffling in the bathroom he can guess is Porthos.   
“Sure,” d’Artagnan yawns widely. There’s some more shuffling and a few moments later they leave. D’Artagnan, rather than wanting to eat, decides he should probably just take the aspirin and try to go back to sleep. He raises his head to be able to drink and only then does he discover a weight slung over his upper arm and chest. He uses his other arm to find the source of it and there’s a hand on the end of it. He then becomes aware of a warmth behind him.   
“Yes, I’m still here,” Athos mumbles into d’Artagnan’s back.   
“I need to drink,” d’Artagnan says as softly as he can. Athos dislodges his arm and allows d’Artagnan to drink. Despite his better judgement he finds himself turning over to face Athos. His hair is a mess, his eyes are red and he seems to feel bad as well.   
“It’s my own fault,” Athos says when he sees d’Artagnan’s expression. And then he closes his eyes again. D’Artagnan doesn’t protest as his arm once again snakes around d’Artagnan, even if he finds himself vaguely surprised. He closes his own eyes again as well and he’s surprised by how quickly he manages to fall asleep.  
He doesn’t wake up again until it’s three in the afternoon. Athos walks back from the toilet, which might’ve been the cause of the disruption of his sleep. He’s got a headache still and he solemnly decides to keep the curtains closed today, but the worst of it is gone. Athos notices he’s awake as well and comes back in with two aspirins and the glass of water he’d refilled. He takes one and then gives d’Artagnan the remaining water and aspirin. D’Artagnan sits up in his bed and Athos comes to sit next to him.   
“Have you eaten yet?” d’Artagnan mumbles.   
“No,” Athos replies. D’Artagnan puts the plate, filled to the brim with food (obviously Aramis was used to cooking for Porthos), in between them. He discovers there’s only one fork after handing Athos one and coming up empty in his next grab. Athos resolves to feed him instead and d’Artagnan finds he doesn’t mind not even having to open his eyes as long as he opens his mouth and chews. He wonders briefly if Athos is even eating anything for himself, but a quick look confirms he is and he lets himself relax again.   
“I’m sorry. I shall not refill your glass as fast as mine next time,” Athos promises. D’Artagnan makes a noise that could be interpreted as agreement. But he doesn’t blame Athos, after all, he was 24 years old. He was fully capable of deciding how much alcohol was too much. Instead he just waits for the next bite and finds the plate is empty. He lets out a small whine.  
“I can make more?” Athos offers.   
“Nah. I’ll order something in a bit,” d’Artagnan says. There’s a moment where he’s sure Athos is going to insist but then he simply lies back down instead and pulls d’Artagnan to him. d’Artagnan doesn’t complain or move, simply lets his head rest on the older man’s chest and enjoys the warmth and comfort of it as he once again falls asleep.   
When he awakes once more, Porthos and Aramis are there as well and there’s a distinct smell of pizza. D’Artagnan blinks his eyes open. His hangover is mostly gone, aside from the head ache, but he’s hungry. Aramis is the first to notice his awakening and he quickly gives d’Artagnan a glass of water and soup before he allows d’Artagnan his potion of pizza.   
“I’m never drinking with you again,” d’Artagnan says after he’s done. He’s bleary, his shop had been closed all day and his head hurts. Not to mention the part where they kissed. He doesn’t need to dwell on that today. Or any other day for that matter. He gets a soft chuckle and some mumbled apologies in return, but at least they decide to take care of them that evening. And if he’s lonelier than ever when he finds himself sleeping alone in his bed, nobody needs to know. 

The next day, thankfully, is much better. His killer hangover is gone and his shop has actually been opened at 9 AM, as it should, for a change. He’s just about done with the line art when Athos comes in. d’Artagnan greets him but resolutely decides to finish this up first. The man had distracted him enough from his work since arriving in this hellhole.   
“Are you well?” Athos asks when he’s preparing some tea for the both of them.   
“Yes. I swear, how you can handle this much alcohol is a freaking world mystery,” d’Artagnan voices. He finishes the line art a few minutes later and joins Athos, who’d been patiently waiting in one of the chairs with two cups of tea.   
“Years of experience,” Athos replies honestly.   
“I bet,” d’Artagnan sighs as he leans back in his chair. “You three are horrible for business,” he complains. “I should at least have finished the line art yesterday.”   
“Ah, sorry about that,” Athos says. There’s something about it that makes it seem equally sincere as well as amused. D’Artagnan just glares at him. They sip their tea and there’s half an hour in which nothing happens but drinking tea and d’Artagnan going back to painting while Athos, who’d apparently decided it was something better not done by him, is leaning against the wall. He’s put up the order for normal books that came in yesterday in his absence in that half an hour, though, and d’Artagnan is grateful.   
“I was-“ Athos starts and then halts just as suddenly. D’Artagnan spares a moment from painting to look at the man. His mouth is still in the middle of that sentence but his eyes have glossed over just the tiniest bit.   
“Athos? Are you okay?” he asks, putting the brush down and walking over to the man. Athos nods, but doesn’t say anything, and d’Artagnan doesn’t know if he should believe him or not. But then he closes his mouth and his eyes focus on d’Artagnan.   
“I’m fine,” he says, even if there’s a slight tone to his voice that shouldn’t be there.   
“Are you sure?” d’Artagnan asks, leading Athos into the back room to give him something to drink.   
“Yes, quite so,” he says. And then, probably because he knows the three too damn well, he remembers Aramis’ dare to Athos, about putting a vibrating butt plug into him and keeping the remote to himself, and he adds one and one together.   
“This is Aramis’ doing, isn’t it?” d’Artagnan asks, to be sure. There’s a slight pink hue to Athos’ cheeks but other than that he doesn’t give any indication it might be sexually tinted.   
“I did still have to fulfil it, even if there was no proper chance yesterday,” Athos says with a mischievous glint in his eyes. And d’Artagnan realizes then the man is basically being pleasured then and there.   
“Oh,” he says dumbly, blushing. That earns him a huff.   
“You have never tried it, have you?” Athos inquires. He spares a moment to wonder if he should answer that, because really, why should he tell the man, when it becomes clear Athos isn’t expecting an answer. “They aren’t that intense,” he simply finishes. D’Artagnan still doesn’t know how to react. Athos smirks. “That means I will not climax here and now. You don’t have to worry about that.”   
“I wasn’t worried,” that earns him an incredulous glance. He sighs. “It was effective enough to shut you up mid-sentence. Not a lot of things that can do that,” d’Artagnan decides to tease him instead. It makes him feel a bit more in control.   
“If you only know what they are,” Athos replies. D’Artagnan wonders if anyone would think it strange he says that. Then he realizes that definitely yes, because d’Artagnan is still the one of the only ones in town to actually know more than half his name, age and boyfriends. And he’s the only one to know how to actually read his emotions and all that. He decides to drop the subject and go back to painting, even if only to go back into familiar and safe territory.   
“You know where the toilet is, should you need it,” d’Artagnan says. That earns him an amused smirk, but Athos remains where he is.   
“For a self-declared player in university, you seem awfully innocent about this,” Athos remarks, having sat down but staring at d’Artagnan intently. D’Artagnan doesn’t reply for the longest time, but Athos is much better at this game than he and he gives in when he can no longer stand the eyes on him.   
“With other people, yes. Not toys,” d’Artagnan replies. Athos looks as if he wants to delve into that, at least he opens his mouth to reply, but fortunately d’Artagnan is saved by his mother walking into the shop.   
“Charles!” she greets him and d’Artagnan spares a moment to give her a hug. He walks into the kitchen to make her some tea.  
“Hey mom. I was wondering when you were going to stop by,” d’Artagnan says. She turns around to sit down and apparently only then sees Athos.   
“Oh, bonjour monsieur,” she says with a nod and takes the other chair. “I came by yesterday, but the shop was closed?”   
“Yes, I was ill yesterday. But I’m much better today,” d’Artagnan says when she gets her mom look and is about to check his temperature.   
“Good to hear that. Your art is coming along very nicely,” she says. He’d already finished with Superman and Spiderman and the Green lantern was coming along nicely as well. The others still had to be coloured entirely.   
“Thanks,” he says.   
“I’ve heard about Porthos’ competition. You must be proud of him,” she says to Athos then. Athos’ face very minutely displays his surprise (people generally learned to ignore him pretty quickly) and d’Artagnan wonders for a brief panicked moment whether or not the butt plug is still active. But if it is, he shows no signs of it.   
“Yes, quite so,” he says with a polite smile.   
“How long will you be gone for, anyhow? I imagine Charles might miss you,” she replies. And d’Artagnan has to resist the urge to throw paint her way.   
“I don’t think Charles has anything to be afraid of, madame. I will stay here,” d’Artagnan doesn’t miss the extra emphases Athos puts on his name and he turns to glare at the man.   
“Oh? I was at the hospital and Aramis told me he was going too, I assumed you would as well then,” she says. He turns to see if he has to save Athos but Athos is looking polite as ever.   
“Yes, Aramis will join Porthos for it. Unfortunately I have business to attend to of my own during their absence which requires I remain in France,” Athos says.   
“My apologies, monsieur,” there’s the slightest hint of sadness in Athos’ face. “What kind of business would this be? Maybe d’Artagnan and I could help so that you can go?”   
“That’s a very kind offer, madame, thank you. But I fear I have to decline. It’s a familial business I can’t expect anyone else to take care off.”  
“Oh, your family runs a business then?” d’Artagnan decides it’s definitely time to intervene at that point and he puts the paint safely away before joining them, but by that time Athos is already answering.   
“Yes, we do. A law firm.”   
“Mom, why don’t you leave business for what it is? I was rather hoping you came to tell me when I’d be eating some of your winning cake?” d’Artagnan asks with a smile. his mother chuckles.   
“Of course. I will make some. You can come to collect it tomorrow. Maybe you can come as well,” she offers. And then she gets up. “I should be getting on my way. I have a meeting. I will see you tomorrow then,” she says, hugging d’Artagnan. D’Artagnan waits until she leaves and then he comes to sit with Athos instead (or, alternatively, crash down with his back almost on the bottom of the chair and his eyes closed). The painting is drying up anyway and if he starts with another one now he’ll probably eat very late.   
“Charles, is it?” Athos says, sounding far too amused. D’Artagnan cracks open an eye to confirm that, yes, he does look very amused as well.   
“Law firm, is it?” d’Artagnan decides to repay the favour, blinking his eyes shut again.   
“Technically, yes,” Athos says easily. “We do have jurisdiction, so we do have to uphold the law.”   
“That’s not what a law firm is,” d’Artagnan protests. “And besides, I thought you left that life.”   
“It is, the theoretical sense of the word. Nobody ever needs to know the details. And I did. However, there are multiple relatives of mine who still know I’m alive and where to find me. Which means I do have to step in, if not in the picture, every once in a while.”   
“And if someone should check up on the story? In a town like this?”   
“They will end up with an existing and reliable firm that lists me as one of the managers. Which is not performing under its actual name,” Athos sounds solid in his beliefs.   
“Mh. Okay then. Because otherwise you might be safer off not telling people this. My mom’s okay, but everyone else will check it thoroughly.” His mom probably will tell others though, not because she likes to spread rumours but.. well.. despite everything and how nice and all she is.. she does like gossiping.   
“I covered myself, don’t worry about that,” Athos says with an amused glint in his eye. “I’ve been under the radar for the past nine years, after all.”   
“True. But even then you can make mistakes. Anyway, I’d best close the shop up,” d’Artagnan says. it’s five minutes to closing time, actually, but it’s not as if anyone is going to come in now anyway. Athos nods and gets up to put his glass away.   
“Oh, I never got to finish my question. Will you go out to dinner with me?” Athos asks when he comes back. D’Artagnan, who’d been standing by the door with his key waiting for him, arches a brow.   
“You know, having banished you from the kitchen, they really should just leave you leftovers or something if they’re not going to eat,” d’Artagnan says. He’s probably sounding more amused than he means to.   
“They usually do, but Aramis had a quite unexpected double shift and today is one of the few days Porthos actually gets to train with another professional wrestler. Which is how we ended up being unprepared for me trying to get dinner,” Athos replies.  
“How are you going to do that when you’re alone?” d’Artagnan chuckles.   
“I’m planning to get very acquainted with the various locations one can get pre-made food around here. Which reminds me, if you chose to join, there might be the chance of having to take the bus to the car,” Athos pulls a face that very much tells d’Artagnan his opinion on taking the bus.   
“What’s wrong with the bus?” he asks. Busses around small towns are pretty damn horrible when you want to get anywhere, admittedly. You simply can’t reach any place without having to travel at least twenty minutes longer and usually you find yourself switching busses at least two times and having to walk a distance still. So he’s hesitant to taking the bus himself, even with him not having the option to drive.   
“Oh, the connection is quite good,” Athos says, probably reading into d’Artagnan’s tone. “It’s just the bus itself. I hate it. There’s so many people in one vehicle, it smells, it’s hot and there’s usually at least one lunatic. And I’ve frequently almost died because of the driver’s abilities. No, I’d really rather not have to use the bus.”   
“Yeah fine, I’ll join you. But, you should go to Amsterdam one day if you want to die by public transportation. We went there with the university one time and I don’t think we were there for even five minutes before the bus we rode was almost hit by a tram that passed. And even if you walk, either of those can hit you without warning, or a bike or a car or a metro. Really, I was glad to be back in Paris,” d’Artagnan chuckles.   
“I know what you mean. I’ve been there once when I was young. Thomas very, very nearly died because a biker came from one side, a bus and a tram from another and he was stuck in between the three,” Athos says.   
“All three managed to evade him?”  
“No, Thomas decided the biker was the safest bet. He was correct and he ended up with only a broken arm,” Athos smirks. They’ve reached d’Artagnan’s apartment and he walks into the bedroom to stare into his closet to decide what to wear while Athos waits for him, sitting on the bed.  
“He’s your brother?” d’Artagnan asks, trying to spy where his favourite jeans are hiding.   
“He was, yes. He died,” Athos says.   
“Oh. I’m sorry,” d’Artagnan says, looking back at Athos. Though there’s a pained expression on his face it’s clear that it’s been a long time. D’Artagnan finally spots them and pulls them out of the closet, pulling a light blue blouse out as well.   
“What’s that?” Athos inquires.   
“What?” Athos gets up and pulls a dark brown, leather jacket out of it.   
“Oh, that,” d’Artagnan blushes a little. “I may or may not have experimented with BDSM for a brief moment.”  
“You didn’t like it?” there’s amusement from Athos.   
“That depends on which aspects you’re talking about. A large part of it I definitely did not like.”  
“The serious master and slave part?” Athos inquires. D’Artagnan arches a brow.   
“Yes. Among that,” he ends it in a slight question considering it had sounded like there was more to it.   
“I personally hate that as well,” Athos admits. And d’Artagnan can hear a story behind it but he decides not to press it.   
“You didn’t really get into the lifestyle, did you?” He just can’t see Athos doing that.   
“Not the complete version,” Athos bites the inside of his cheek. “But I.. my wife.. she was into it. The problem was, she was a dominant and I was not into either side, but I would not be forced into that. She made me read some stories and listen to other people who tried it, but it only made me more opposed to doing it.” He admits. “But I do like leather jackets,” he adds with a smirk.   
“I’m sure you do,” d’Artagnan rolls his eyes but, partly as a joke, partly because he himself likes wearing them, he takes it out of the closet and puts it on.


	12. The first real date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, would you look at that, it's a week since posting indeed :D 
> 
> I will go on record saying; I'm not poly and nobody that I personally know is, so everything that I say about it is what I've read/heard/whatever. If I have portrayed it poorly or even offensively, I do apologize.   
> As demi-sexual I do know what it's like if people don't understand your sexuality and that is in no way what I want to do to other people. So if this offends you in any way, let me know what I can do to change it!

D’Artagnan and Athos take the bus twenty minutes later. It turns out they didn’t keep their cars that far away from their house (which really makes sense) and they get out after fifteen minutes. D’Artagnan finds himself looking around in confusion before he realizes, there’s only one building. There will be no other place he could’ve been keeping the cars, but it looks like a business unit rather than a garage.  
“Looks can be deceiving,” Athos remarks when he notices d’Artagnan’s expression and walks toward the building. He swipes a card that allows them access and then they continue walking until they reach something that looks like a bunch of garages. Athos ignores them all until they reach number 171 and then he swipes the card again and opens it up. Inside are three cars, actually, though one looks battered and in disuse.   
“Porthos was into car sports before he fully focussed on wrestling. That’s what’s left of it,” Athos says when he notices d’Artagnan looking. “He’s too sentimental to get rid of it, even if it doesn’t even start anymore.”   
“How many sports did he do? Wrestling, racing, fencing?”   
“He only fenced for one season. Didn’t like the amount of technique that was required. And I think he was also a boxer, but he decided he’d rather not get repeatedly punched in the face after he somehow managed to get that scar when an opponent had apparently messed with his gloves. And nor Aramis nor me met him before he stopped racing.”  
“Yet he’s kept the car?” Athos had opened the door to his own car and was leaning his lower arms on the door as he looked at d’Artagnan.   
“I think he’d been hoping to get back into it. But Porthos grew up in the court, he declared it a miracle he managed to get his hands on this one. When it broke down he couldn’t afford another one. And then when he finally managed to get enough money, his wrestling career had picked up enough that he could no longer do both to his heart’s desire,” Athos shrugs.   
“Mh. That must suck,” d’Artagnan says, but then he finally gets into the passenger seat. Athos climbs into the car as well and a button opens the door on the side of the road rather than a swipe.   
“I don’t think he minds all that much. He’d have time to do this for amateurs,” Athos shrugs, driving off and closing the door behind them with another button. 

They arrive at the restaurant almost an hour later (after Athos having made an unexpected turn that had apparently been caused by the vibrator kicking on). It’s a nice looking restaurant but d’Artagnan somehow doubts it gets much business what with the dirt road leading up to it. Athos pulls a face upon exiting the car and looking at it.   
“Great,” he mutters under his breath.   
“Maybe go to some carwash with those chicks,” d’Artagnan wiggles his brows and Athos smiles.   
“You think they do the underside?”   
“Oh, I definitely think they do the underside,” d’Artagnan chuckles. There is something nagging at his mind that he only notices when the vibrator starts, there is a chance it’s still working now. Athos doesn’t really give anything away. The interior is nice, even if a little farm-y feeling. And the food smells delicious. They are seated and are brought their drinks and then d’Artagnan excuses himself.   
“Wait, can I borrow your phone for a second?” Athos asks. D’Artagnan nods. “Do you have internet here?”   
“Probably, if it’s not too much in the middle of nowhere,” he chuckles as he leaves. When he returns Athos is looking thoughtful and he’s still thumbing through something. But then he sees d’Artagnan and, after making a note on a napkin that he puts in his pocket, he hands d’Artagnan’s phone back. The waiter comes to bring them their drinks and to take their orders.   
“I would like the Spare ribs,” d’Artagnan says with a smile. The waiter writes it down with a nod before turning to Athos.   
“For me the-“ the ‘the’ has his voice trailing off with a glaze over his eye. D’Artagnan doesn’t need to ask what happened. “Beef please,” he finishes. “Rare.”  
“Very well,” the waiter says and writes it down too, with a curious look on his face before walking off. D’Artagnan can’t help but be a little uncomfortable despite Athos being perfectly well-schooled in not giving anything away. Athos smiles about that.   
“You act like a virgin sometimes, you know,” Athos says. It earns him a scowl. 

The food was as good as it smelled and d’Artagnan almost finds himself wishing for more. But at last they’re back at the car and Athos is typing something into the navigation system.   
“I just need to make a quick detour,” Athos says. d’Artagnan notices the napkin he pocketed has the same address when he puts that into the dashboard cabinet (and brushes over d’Artagnan’s thigh in the process, which he’s fairly sure is intentional).   
D’Artagnan has to refrain from laughing when they arrive at the destination. It is, in fact, a car wash. With scarcely clad girls. With big boobs (d’Artagnan fairly sure only a few are real, but it definitely looks good and he won’t get to feel anyway) and large smiles.   
“Really?” d’Artagnan asks, looking at Athos in amusement. Athos nods. He’s got a very large smile/smirk combination on his face and his eyes glint. D’Artagnan rolls his eyes with a theatrical sigh even as he looks back at the girls. “It’s a good thing you’re poly, or I might get worried.”   
“How do you know I’m poly rather than just coincidently with two people?” Athos doesn’t sound serious, but considering they’re still waiting in the three-car line anyway, d’Artagnan decides to humour him by answering.  
“If you weren’t, you’d be a lot more upset about Porthos and Aramis with each other and a lot less looking at others,” d’Artagnan says with a casual shrug. He’s not actually meaning it any more serious than Athos is, but the man turns to face him rather than the girls.   
“How would you know?” d’Artagnan blushes slightly, but he realizes that can be easily written off.   
“I read it,” he lies.   
“Really? You’re sure there’s not more to it than that?” and then d’Artagnan wonders why he’s lying in the first place. It’s not as if Athos has a right or will be likely to judge him.   
“I am poly,” he admits. It doesn’t look as if Athos is surprised. He probably isn’t. “But please keep that between us. Nobody needs to know.”   
“What about if you’re in a relation? Your partner would need to know.”  
“No, they would not,” d’Artagnan sighs. “I was dating two people once. But neither of them were poly. It only ends well with other, polies, Athos. You’re just lucky you found them.”   
“They can’t force you to it, though. It’d be like forcing straight people to love the same sex,” Athos reasons. D’Artagnan sighs.   
“And that’s why I’m still single,” he mumbles. There’s a long silence that’s eventually broken by one of the girls approaching them and announcing they will be up next. Athos nods.   
“You don’t have to be,” he says softly. D’Artagnan turns to look at his friend and finds himself blushing despite his best wishes. He knows full well what Athos is implying.   
“What about Porthos and Aramis? I mean, we’ve spent a lot of time together agreed, and.. but I mean..” he trails off, not knowing how to end it. Porthos and Aramis, unlike Athos, had jobs. As a result d’Artagnan didn’t get to see them as much as he saw Athos and he didn’t know them like he did Athos.   
“You like them,” Athos states. And it’s not a question at all. D’Artagnan sends a mixed glare, questioning look his direction. “I think you’ve noticed I’m not usually as drunk as you. I’ve seen you look, I’m not blind. It’s part of why I already suspected you to be poly.”   
“I like them, yes. But they’re often.. I get to see you all the time, so I know you pretty well. But I only see them sometimes, and always with all of you present,” d’Artagnan sighs.   
“There’s a simple solution to that. Go on dates with them,” Athos suggests easily.  
“Who’s to say they want that?” Athos smirks in amusement.   
“Are you really going to tell me I can’t recognize desire in my own boyfriends, d’Artagnan? I know they’re at least interested. You should try. If it doesn’t work, no harm done. If it does..” he trails it off. “I know Aramis is free tomorrow night. And Porthos will be available at the end of the week. Just say the word and I’ll set it up,” he offers. D’Artagnan remains silent for a moment. But then he resolutely decides he should at least try.   
“Yeah, I’d like that,” he says. Athos smiles widely. And then the car wash begins and they both sit back and enjoy the show. Aramis chooses the exact time that a very, very big busted lady with the most beautiful curly hair d’Artagnan’s ever seen is hovering in Athos’ lap to turn the vibrator on once again, which results very funnily in the girl thinking Athos must’ve climaxed and trying to keep her laugh in (without too much success) which in turn makes d’Artagnan laugh his ass off. 

Constance is at his door maybe ten minutes after Athos dropped him off and he lets her in with a smile.   
“Been on date with Lemay lately?” he inquires. She nods.   
“Yes. We’ve been spending nearly every night together. I figured now was time to spend with my best friend instead,” she says, chuckling as he hugs her and presses a small peck to her cheek.   
“So, he’s good then? Good enough for my lovely Constance?”   
“Definitely! He’s.. oh, d’Artagnan he really is wonderful. He’s kind, he’s smart and he’s a very, very excellent cook. He even ignores every teasing comment from Aramis, which is saying something, and just focuses on me instead. it’s amazing,” she sighs happily.   
“Good! You deserve no less. His whole world should revolve around you,” he chuckles.   
“That’s what you always so, but here a whole week passes without seeing each other,” she scolds half teasingly.   
“Ah, yes. I’m afraid I’ve been quite wrapped up in my own love life.” That definitely peaked her interest.  
“What? Who?” she asks.   
“Three who’s,” he admits sheepishly. And d’Artagnan can immediately see the realization on her face. Her mouth drops open.   
“How did that happen?”   
“Well.. I mean.. it was bound to happen sometime, I guess. I mean, I’ve found myself falling harder for Athos than I’ve ever fallen for anyone. And I mean, I don’t usually get to spend much time with Aramis and Porthos, but they’re both.. they’re great Constance. I really, really like them and would like to give it a shot.”  
“Which isn’t saying that much with you,” she interrupts. He sends her a playful glare, but she is right. He’d only ever truly loved one person before. She’d framed him for murder, which was pretty much a killer to any relation.   
“Anyway, well, they’re all poly, of course. And we got to discussing that yesterday. And apparently.. did you know how high is alcohol tolerance is? Gosh, it’s impossible. Anyway, while I was drunk out of my mind and bleeding my emotions all out on the pavement, he was sober enough to see it. And he brought it up and he told me as much. But then I protested that I only really knew him, considering Porthos and Aramis actually spend their afternoons working and training. And he told me he’d set up dates for us,” he rambles. She lets him.   
“Oh, but that’s wonderful,” she squeals. They talk some more about both of it (and really, however much he’s grateful Constance got her wish, he did not need to know how wonderful off a.. down under person Lemay is, no matter how much wine Constance and he had drunk).

He’s painting the next day, finished with the Green lantern and he’s just about to get started on the Hulk when Athos steps in. This time he’s accompanied by Aramis who greets him with a flourish.   
“You’ve finally gotten the message then?”  
“What message?” d’Artagnan asks.   
“My poem.”  
“What poem?” and then.. “Oh god, not the horrible one you told me at the hospital?” Aramis pouts.   
“You’re saying you didn’t like it? That was exactly the one I meant.”  
“What?” Athos inquires.   
“I made him a poem. He didn’t get it.”  
“How was I supposed to get it? It was just a bunch of numbers.” D’Artagnan says.   
“Yes. Athos you would’ve gotten it,” Aramis turns to him.  
“Doubtful,” is his simple reply. Aramis looks exasperated.   
“You two. So anyway, I came to inform you our date is on. Look nice. Be ready at seven. I’ll come pick you up,” Aramis looks at d’Artagnan.   
“Don’t I always look nice?” d’Artagnan teases.   
“Normally, you do. But you’ve got green in your hair,” Aramis says, pulling on the green strand.   
“Oh,” he says dumbly. Aramis chuckles.  
“Don’t be nervous, my innocent little maiden,” D’Artagnan scowls. “After all, I mean, we’ve already kissed. You obviously have skill at that or I would’ve never agreed to it,” Aramis teases. Athos, behind his boyfriend’s back, rolls his eyes.   
“I’m not,” d’Artagnan lies. Aramis only chuckles.   
“Well, you do have all day to prepare anyway. I have to be getting to the hospital in a bit,” Aramis says, sounding entirely too pleased about himself.  
“Is it too late to cancel?” d’Artagnan asks jokingly. Neither man decides to answer.   
“Athos told me you can’t drive,” Aramis says.   
“Athos is correct,” d’Artagnan answers.   
“Why don’t you just sign up for lessons?”  
“First of all, I don’t actually need it. I can get places. Second of all, I don’t actually have time. I run a store by myself. And third, it’s kind of expensive if you consider how much you actually need to drive,” d’Artagnan sums up the reasons. People had been bugging him about it for some time (especially Ninon, who’d lost her license due to 1) driving too fast and 2) deciding to bring some feminism to the bureau and 3) having done both these several times and wanted him to drive her places).   
“Yeah, but wouldn’t it be convenient?”   
“I barely ever get out of this town. And if I do it’s to go to Paris. That’s easy enough by train and after that I can just use the metro,” Aramis shrugs, though he still looks as if he doesn’t believe that d’Artagnan actually doesn’t see the need.   
“Aramis, you’re going to be late,” Athos had grabbed a book that he was currently reading and he doesn’t even look up from it even as he announces this. Aramis takes a look at the clock and, after giving d’Artagnan a kiss on the mouth (which even he wasn’t expecting) leaves the store. D’Artagnan slumps into the other seat.   
“So, are you nervous?” Athos inquires, still not looking up from his book, making d’Artagnan’s glare entirely ineffective.   
“A little,” he finally admits. Athos does look up from his book then.   
“Don’t worry, d’Artagnan. Aramis can seem a little overwhelming, he’s really not half that bad,” Athos assures him.   
“He’s.. that’s not the issue, Athos. I know he’s not that bad. I have seen him several occasions, if I should remind you. It’s just..” he trails off.   
“What are you afraid off?” Athos asks, putting his book away entirely.   
“His reaction. I mean, everything else aside, you three are in a relationship which I’ll just be joining into, if things work out,” d’Artagnan admits.   
“I’m not going to say it won’t take some getting used to and rearranging but d’Artagnan, we’re all poly. Just like you. You should know they’re not going to object. Quite opposite, as long as they actually do like you, they’ll welcome you with open arms. As will I. And I am fairly sure they both like you. That you’ve got a chance with them,” he says it very seriously. And d’Artagnan does know, on some level. But still, he’s the only poly he’s ever known, and though his heart is too big for its own good, he knows he’s rejected plenty of people. But that’s not what’s really holding him back.   
“I was in a relation with two others once. Did I tell you yesterday? I don’t remember,” d’Artagnan mumbles and Athos waits for him to continue. “The problem is.. I was in love with them. And they were in love with me. But there was no chemistry between them. And they got so.. jealous. It was worse than being with just one person. Now, I know that it won’t be a problem if you’re right and something could happen with Porthos and Aramis. But if it does?”   
“I would not put you through this if I wasn’t sure about this, d’Artagnan. I know hurt. I’ve lived through it. No, Aramis was adamant from very early on about involving you. Porthos has taken to discussing it with us, what we’d do if you were interested. You have nothing to worry about in that department, d’Artagnan. Like I said yesterday, it’s just a matter of how things will work between you personally and Aramis and Porthos. If it does, we’ll welcome you with all our hearts. If it doesn’t than there’s a very, very grand chance that’s your own choice and we will not resent you for it,” Athos says. And there’s such a serious tone to it that d’Artagnan can’t help but accept that. “Now, I will leave you to your painting. I’m thinking I’d rather do more bad than good anyway.” 

D’Artagnan ends up spending the day simultaneously wanting it to go faster and to slow down. He also simultaneously wants to beg Athos to accompany him the whole day, accompany him on their date, accompany him in the shop while waiting and not accompanying him at all. And he’s also somewhere doubting if it’s really a good idea to follow through with it.   
But finally 7 o’clock finds him ready in his best clothes with the dye washed out of his hair and just generally having tried to look his best. He’s not disappointed by the result. Aramis arrives just a minute after 7 and d’Artagnan opens the door rather nervously. Aramis gives him a blinding smile. The man was wearing dark skinny jeans with a formal blouse that fitted and hugged in all the right places. His eyes were also lined with black.   
“You’re wearing eyeliner?” is stupidly the first thing out of d’Artagnan’s mouth. Aramis laughs.   
“Yes, I am. Now, are you ready?”   
“Yes,” d’Artagnan nods. Aramis takes his arm in his own and they walk down the street to Aramis’ flamboyant purple car together. There’s two people just crossing the street and d’Artagnan just begs they’re not from the gossip choir, considering he can’t recognize them from this distance with Aramis so close to him.   
“What makes you so nervous, d’Artagnan? It’s not as if we haven’t seen each other or spent the whole evening together before,” Aramis points out.   
“Yeah, but those weren’t dates,” d’Artagnan mumbles even as Aramis unlocks the car and they both crawl in. It’s a lot lower than Athos’ car and even Porthos’ car (considering he was such a large man he needed somewhat of a decent sized car) and he bumps his head.   
“Watch your head,” Aramis says, pressing a kiss to the spot his head had collided with the car. “And there’s no need for extra nerves for a date. I’ve already decided I like you anyway, if you hadn’t noticed. So has Porthos. And Athos was the first of us to actually fall for you,” Aramis chuckles. “It’ll only be a matter of whether you actually like us in that way, and we’ll be good to go.”   
“I know,” d’Artagnan sighs as he tries to relax. “I’m sorry. I have only one experience in poly relations and it’s quite a bad one. It’s made me somewhat nervous.”   
“Ah, yes. I can understand that. Fortunately I have quite the extravagant friends who helped me through it when I first discovered I was bi and then again when I discovered I was poly.”   
“That must be great,” d’Artagnan says with a smile.   
“It is. I’ve had them all my life. But admittedly, I only had one serious relation before I met Porthos. That one I had early and ended badly and it made me hesitant to ever commit again. But.. Porthos.. he’s such an amazing guy. He helped me through it. By the time I met Athos, well, I mean, I won’t say Porthos and I are were ever exclusive. And we weren’t afterwards. But at least I was willing to commit, you know,” Aramis shrugs. D’Artagnan nods and soon they arrive at the restaurant. D’Artagnan is very excited to see it’s Serge’s.   
“Oh, Aramis, I love this place,” d’Artagnan exclaims. He’d thought they’d go some other place.  
“A little bird told me as much,” Aramis admits.  
“Constance?”   
“Yes. And she had great stories of her own about it. So I figured it was definitely worth the try.”  
“Monsieur d’Herblay?” Serge asks when Aramis steps in. It’s a small establishment and Serge knew pretty much all his customers, so it didn’t surprise him he guessed Aramis name (considering he’ll have given it with the reservation).   
“Yes,” Aramis says with a wide smile as they’re being led to their table.   
“What can I offer you gentlemen to drink?”  
“Coke for me please.”  
“And a sprite,” d’Artagnan adds.   
“I will be right back,” he leaves the table and Aramis is gawking around the tavern-like interior of the restaurant.   
“It’s like a romantic version of the 17th century,” Aramis says.   
“Yes, I love it,” d’Artagnan says, looking around as well.   
“So do I. You have good taste,” Aramis chuckles, pecking his cheek.   
“So, Constance wasn’t exaggerating then?”   
“Not at all. And I mean, it certainly did one trick right. You are a lot less nervous,” Aramis observes. D’Artagnan smiles a bit.   
“This is safe terrain for me, after all. If anyone should be nervous at this point,” he wiggles his eyebrows and Aramis laughs.   
“I’m sure. You’re a very attractive young man after all,” Aramis really is shameless in his complementing but d’Artagnan rather likes it, even if he chuckles it off.   
“Mh? And what about yourself then? Porthos told me you were quite the womanizer before you got together, and had several men as well,” d’Artagnan asks.   
“Ah, I’m afraid my heart has always been too quick to fall in love. Fortunately, Athos and Porthos have until now been the only ones who actually remained there. Although I hope to be adding one more to that number,” Aramis whispers. His hand, under the tables, squeezes d’Artagnan’s thigh softly. He returns the gesture with a little more vigour.   
“I would like that,” he admits. Aramis smiles and then captures his lips in a kiss. And it’s a wonderful date as d’Artagnan’s ever had.


	13. Last but not least

Porthos walks into the shop on Friday afternoon, just as d’Artagnan starts longing for company. He smiles widely as he leans against the wall next to the paintings.  
“You’re really talented at this,” Porthos observes. He’s done with the hulk and captain America now too and he’s currently painting the last one, which is a Donald Duck (hey, it’s a different genre, but it’s still comics and he does have a few of those).   
“Thanks,” d’Artagnan smiles widely at the man.   
“So, I don’t have that much time unfortunately, I have to get back to the hall in ten minutes. But how about we go on that date tomorrow night?”   
“Sure,” d’Artagnan agrees. He’s going to meet up with Ninon today (it’s been ages since the last time they actually talked just the two of them) but he’s free tomorrow.   
“Good. You don’t have to dress up nicely for this one,” Porthos says.   
“What are we doing then?”   
“That would ruin the surprise, now wouldn’t it? You’ll find out tomorrow. And I’ll be able to tease you infinitely probably, if what I hear is correct.”  
“What did you hear,” Porthos smirks knowingly.   
“Not gonna tell ya.”  
“Porthos!”  
“It’s called a surprise for a reason, d’Art. Just be patient. You’re going to find out. Just make sure you’re not drunk and we’ll be good,” Porthos says.   
“But I need to know a little, right?”  
“Ah yes, of course. I need to give you a time. I’m picking you up at 6.30. Better be ready,” Porthos teases.   
“For what though?” he only smiles.   
“You know what, I’m going to give you three questions I can answer with yes or no.”   
“Okay. Is it..” he considers his options for a moment. He doesn’t need to look good. “Is it in the dark?” Porthos shakes his head. “Do I have to un/redress for it?” again a shake. Then why doesn’t he need to look good?   
“Really don’t know?” Porthos inquires, taking a quick glance at the clock.   
“No,” d’Artagnan admits. “Is it an activity?”  
“Isn’t everything?”   
“Yeah, but not like eating or watching a movie. Like, do you actually physically partake in something?”   
“It’s not that physical, but yes, I suppose it would be in that category,” d’Artagnan is still confused, but Porthos’ break is over and he leaves d’Artagnan hanging. 

Ninon knocks on the door impatiently that night and d’Artagnan lets her in. She has a bottle of their favourite wine (apple flavoured) in one hand and a package of cookies in the other.  
“d’Artagnan,” she says, smiling broadly.   
“Hey Ninon,” he returns, hugging her tightly. “How’s Fleur?”  
“I fear that didn’t last long,” she admits and d’Artagnan rolls her eyes theatrically. She disliked men. Just as much as she was straight. She kept trying, but somehow she always found herself back to being single and just sleeping around instead (and it’s hardly as if she seemed to mind that at all). She punches his arm in response   
“No, but seriously, I thought you said it was going to work out with her?”   
“It obviously didn’t. d’Artagnan, I’m never going to get anyone. I’m just.. I’m not attracted to girls. But I hate how most men treat me,” she complains. D’Artagnan wraps his arms around her and hugs her tightly.   
“You’ll find your mister right. Constance did,” d’Artagnan says.   
“Yeah. Not anywhere near here though. I need to get back to Paris, d’Art. I can’t be stuck here. But I’m not allowed to go back either.”   
“Well, I mean, there’s still people moving into town.”  
“yes, and you take all the cute ones. Constance told me you’d started dating Athos.”  
“Actually,” he coughs. “I started dating all three.”   
“Well.. yeah.. but Athos is a real stunner. I mean, he just.. he seems so perfectly mysterious and polite but then, I mean, we talked a bit.. he respects women like we should be treated and respected. But, you know, it was bad enough that he had two boyfriends. What am I going to offer him three boyfriends can’t?”   
“Well, a head ache for one,” d’Artagnan jokes, earning him another punch.   
“Oh, I hate you,” she chuckles as she opens the wine and attacks it vigorously.   
“I’m going to be so stupid by the end of this year, if it’s true alcohol diminishes brain cells,” d’Artagnan mumbles even as he brings it to his mouth and imitates her vigour.   
“Yeah. That’s why we’re so awesome,” she laughs.   
“Mh? Was that it? I thought that was because we’re fabulous.”  
“Well, that too, of course. Now shut up and turn on the damn TV. We’re going to miss pretty little liars this way,” she says, kicking him off her. D’Artagnan laughs loudly as he turns on the TV and comes to sit in her lap before being swatted away.

Porthos comes to get him five minutes earlier than he’d said. D’Artagnan has just put on some comfortable jeans and a shirt that still look good though. Porthos is also in jeans and a shirt, but his are more the ‘I took this out of my closet and wasn’t planning on leaving today’ type. That doesn’t matter though, the shirt seems to be slightly old and it shows his muscle build nicely. D’Artagnan finds himself adoring that as they walk to Porthos’ car.   
“You don’t seem as nervous as Aramis said you were,” Porthos says.   
“That’s because I’m not,” d’Artagnan answers honestly. “I was expecting it to be a lot worse with Aramis, not because of Aramis,” he quickly adds, “but because I had some bad experience before. But then we had a great time, and I figure this will be no different,” he offers a large smile to Porthos who chuckles.   
“Yeah, Aramis told me something about being the only poly in a polygamous relation?”  
“Yeah. It didn’t work out. Then I figured afterwards it didn’t matter, I’d just not try it again. And then along came you,” d’Artagnan replies.   
“Mh, yeah. I mean, I was lucky I grew up in the court. It’s not more common there, but it’s better accepted.”  
“Did that help?”  
“Yes. I was very young when I discovered both that I was gay and that I was poly. Flea, my best friend, told me it made sense. That I had too big a heart to just give it to one guy. I have to be honest, considering I’m merely into men and Athos and Aramis are both bi, that I was pretty nervous about that in the beginning. I was always afraid they’d come back with a girl they also liked or something, you know? But they never did, even if they did watch regularly, and eventually the fear subsided.”   
“So you’re exclusively for the guys then?”   
“Yes. It’s not a.. necessarily good thing for a wrestler. You get into quite a bit of close contact. But fortunately almost everyone I’ve encountered realizes pleasure and sports are two different things for me. Or, at least, when it’s with someone outside of my interests,” Porthos winks.   
“Not everyone though?”   
“No. Especially Labarge is bad. He was the French champion before I got that title. Considering both of us are French and in the same weight category, I’ve often faced him. And he’s never hidden his disdain for my sexuality.”   
“Mh. Well, I sure am glad it’s not my sport. I know I was having trouble when you and Athos were wrestling each other,” d’Artagnan admits. Porthos laughs loudly.   
“I had a feeling that’s why you were acting strange. I’ll have to ask ya forgiveness, kid, because I did put on a show for ya,” Porthos winks at him and d’Artagnan blushes. Then they pull up somewhere and Porthos parks the car.   
“Karting? We’re going karting?” Porthos nods with a smile.   
“Pancakes first though. No karting on an empty stomach,” he chuckles. d’Artagnan is quite amused even if knows full well why.   
“Aramis and Athos told you I didn’t have my driver’s license then?”   
“Yes. Athos didn’t care, but Aramis just couldn’t believe you didn’t want to get it,” Porthos admits. “Although, when you start, I advise you not to drive the same way you would a cart.”  
“I kind of figured that out for myself, but thank you for the reminder.” Porthos laughs again.   
“Mh, yeah, you’ve got brains. I know some people who don’t listen to them too closely. One of them is named Aramis.” D’Artagnan chuckles as well.   
It turns out the pancakes are.. well.. what you’d expect from pancaked. Aside from the little detail where Porthos has apparently decided it would be a good idea to look as seductive as possible when he puts each piece in his mouth. He fails terribly. And yet he succeeds. It looks ridiculous. But between the excitement of this date, the excitement of the previous one and the excitement of maybe joining their little threesome, it doesn’t take much to seduce him.   
“Porthos,” d’Artagnan complains at the second pancake.   
“Yeah?”  
“You’re gonna have to stop that. If you don’t want embarrassing situations,” Porthos chuckles but continues to do so. “Honestly, I was expecting this from Aramis, not you,” d’Artagnan half-heartedly complains.   
“Ah, but I can be worse than Aramis at times,” Porthos admits. And d’Artagnan is very sure he should run while he still can. But he’s also very sure he doesn’t want to.   
“Oh really?” d’Artagnan half chokes on the last word, considering Porthos’ hand is entirely too close to his crotch and with all the rest combined, it makes him extremely aware of their location.   
“Yeah. Sometimes,” Porthos whispers in his ear. “I mean, Aramis is really bad but not usually outside of the bedroom. If you know what I mean,” d’Artagnan shivers. “He’s more the romantic type. Enjoying a nice little date and then diving into it. I, on the other hand, am more of the combine the two type.”   
“I’m noticing,” d’Artagnan voices. Porthos’ hand is now entirely on his semi. Porthos chuckles.   
“It’s part of why I don’t want to go to the fancy or small restaurants they like.” D’Artagnan wonders what dates between them would be like. And he realizes he doesn’t just want to join them, doesn’t just want to watch them together as one. He also wants to know what each individually is like. But he also decides that’s for another time.   
“If you continue with that, Porthos, there’s a great chance I won’t be even getting in the kart,” d’Artagnan voices, his hand shoving Porthos’ away.   
“They’re not that low. Or, at least, unless you’re that big,” he winks and d’Artagnan shivers but Porthos does listen and keeps his hand away for now.   
Okay, so d’Artagnan may have lost. Impressively. After his own incapability to even find the gas (how was he supposed to know it was on the right side? He was ALWAYS in the passenger’s seat), then his inability to properly assess the turns and lastly, Porthos was just driving like a crazy fucking idiot and d’Artagnan immediately knows he would never have dated if he was still into auto sports, simply out of fear of him dying because of it.   
“Hey sissy,” Porthos chuckles when he reaches the finish of his last round seven full minutes after Porthos does. He glares at the man, but there’s still a large smile on his face.   
“Hey pirate. I now realize how you broke that car,” d’Artagnan retorts.   
“Oh well, there’s a difference between a car and a kart, you know.”  
“Mh. The gas is apparently right-side on both,” Porthos stares at him.  
“You didn’t even know that?”  
“No,” d’Artagnan exclaims.   
“How old are you even?”   
“Seven,” d’Artagnan answers, just for the fun of it. It actually does take Porthos aback, if only for a second. It’s all he needs to get out of his kart and head to the car instead. Porthos eventually does come after him and wraps his arms around him from behind.   
“I think I’m very much hoping you’re not. Because I’m not sure I’d quit you even if you were only seven,” Porthos whispers against his neck.   
“You creepy pervert,” d’Artagnan retorts with a laugh and a quick peck of his own. And it feels good. And he knows what the only thing left for him to do is. A date. With all three. In proper setting.


	14. The final date

They had very carefully instructed him, the day before when Porthos dropped him off, not to show up at their place even a second before five, when they’d agreed to meet. And it’s torture. He wants to see them. Now. Not wait until tonight. To distract himself, he heads to his mom’s. She lets him in with a broad smile.   
“Hey mom,” d’Artagnan says, hugging her on the way inside.   
“Charles! Have you finally come to tell me?” he sits on the couch and isn’t at all surprised his mom knows. Probably everyone in the city knows they’ve been dating by now.   
“Actually, no. It’s not.. it’s not official or anything yet. We haven’t discussed anything,” there’s a silence but his mom waits for him to continue. “I just.. I really hope it’s going to work, mom. It’s just.. what if it ends the same as it did back then? What if they decide they don’t want me after all?” his mom brings him some hot chocolate and sits opposite to him.   
“Charles, I don’t think..” she pauses for a bit and then continues looking at him. “You probably have failed to notice this, but I’m sure they would accept you. Obviously I don’t know them very well, but rumours have been going around since the four of you first shared a drink. It’s been continuing throughout the whole time. It’s clear as day with Athos, considering he’s actually willing to talk to you and even smiles from time to time. Same goes for Porthos, he just seems to wear his heart on his sleeve, and I met him when he was even less clear-headed and so more emotional. I don’t think he remembers it, but I had a nice talk with him. And Aramis.. well, I’ll admit he looks at most people flirtingly and all that.. but there’s something deeper than that when he’s with you,” she pauses once more to let her words sink in and then she grabs d’Artagnan’s hand. “I know you’re worried, my boy, and I understand why. But I honestly don’t think you have to fear that with them.”  
“Thanks,” he says, hugging her tightly. He obviously hadn’t noticed their difference in behaviour considering he barely ever saw them any other way. But apparently others had. Then they went on to talk about some lighter stuff.

He wasn’t really all that nervous when he finally rang their bell. But he was, for good reason, very excited about being there. Aramis opened the door for him and he walked in. All three men looked their best and there was wine and a candle already on the table.   
“d’Artagnan! We were afraid you were going to show up before five anyway, but here you even got here ten minutes later,” Porthos chuckles.  
“Ah yes. My mom held me up,” he admits. “Which is probably the only reason I obeyed your wish, if you were wondering,” he adds when he sees their faces.   
“Well, come join us here, then. It will be another ten minutes before the food is done anyway,” Aramis instructs. Porthos and Athos are huddled together on one couch and, rather than taking the chair, he sits next to Aramis on the other one.   
“We have plenty to talk about anyhow,” Athos says. “For one, I never got to hear your opinion on the dates. And these two idiots have a tendency of overestimating their abilities.”  
“You know, if you hadn’t been so stubborn and just headed to Paris, you could have texted him,” Aramis flings in.   
“I had to help you,” Athos protests. And a smirk on Aramis’ face tells d’Artagnan all he needs to know.   
“Shut up both of you, I’m curious what he has to say,” Porthos says, punching Athos’ thigh softly. D’Artagnan blushes with all the attention set on him. “I, for one, really enjoyed it,” Porthos helps him when he notices the nerves.   
“So did I. You really are exquisite, d’Artagnan,” Aramis says, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him in for a tight hug.  
“I really liked it too,” d’Artagnan says simply, smiling against Aramis’ arm, which seems to make them all get what he means even if feels it’s very inferior to what he should say.   
“So it’s just all of us together then to be tested?” Aramis asks, because he can’t see d’Artagnan’s expression.   
“If that’s what you want, yeah. I know I would really love it,” d’Artagnan admits, as he turns around and faces his feature lover. And Aramis, with a very broad smile, leans in to capture his lips, and d’Artagnan can feel the man’s arms wrapping around d’Artagnan. He kisses back properly this time, not like when they were playing truth or dare and he was shocked and drunk and just not really his own kisses.   
“You’re a much better kisser sober,” Aramis says with a glint in his eye when he retracts. It’d been a short kiss, but that’s okay. There’s a promise of more to come.   
“I should hope so,” d’Artagnan chuckles. “But I take it that’s what you want then?” he asks to be sure, facing all three men. And Athos smiles softly even as Porthos rolls his eyes.   
“No, we’re doing all this trouble just so we’ll send you away at the end of the line,” he says, untangling himself from Athos to join him on the bed. “I’ve wanted you for weeks now. And not just a casual fling either,” Porthos admits.   
“I’m glad to hear it,” d’Artagnan whispers his heart-felt sentiment when Porthos kisses up his jawline, finally giving him a full-on kiss. He can feel himself being sandwiched between his lovers and it feels so, so good. He wonders how he ever could’ve doubted this.   
“So are we,” Aramis admits. “We were a little afraid that you may not want to join us.”   
“Why wouldn’t I want to join you,” d’Artagnan asks. Just the thought of them thinking he’s not into them is too much at this very moment. He turns to Aramis and kisses up his jaw instead. Aramis indulges him with another kiss, this one more passionate.   
“Because you didn’t really know us. Just.. Athos,” Porthos sounds vulnerable behind him and d’Artagnan curses that he has only one mouth, only two hands.   
“Look, admittedly I know Athos better than I do the two of you. But I would definitely say I knew you guys good enough to know what I was agreeing to when we were about to date. It’s not just about Athos. I love you too,” he voices. And for a second, he tenses up. He hadn’t meant to say he loves them so early on. It had slipped out. But then Aramis’ hands hug him even tighter and there’s a happy expression on Porthos’ face.   
“I’m so, so very glad to hear you say that,” Aramis whispers into his neck. And then he’s being kissed again, and d’Artagnan loves it, loves the feeling of Porthos licking into his mouth, Aramis kissing the back of his neck and being sandwiched between them. He lets out a whimper when they both retract when a bell alerts them the food is ready.   
“I’m so very happy we decided to do this after dinner,” Porthos laughs, as he trails one last kiss into d’Artagnan’s jaw before getting up. They all sit down at the table. Athos and Porthos patiently wait for Aramis to be done with saying grace before they put a portion on their plates.   
“You didn’t say grace before,” d’Artagnan notes.   
“I did. Silently. I know..” Aramis hesitates for a moment. “I know my religion isn’t something I should have to hide. But a lot of people judge you for saying grace as much as they judge one for not being religious. But, I suppose, we should have no secrets from each other. So I said it out loud this time,” Aramis explains. D’Artagnan, not religious himself, sees Porthos nod.   
“Yeah, we should be good,” Porthos says, taking Aramis’ hand. Then he turns to d’Artagnan. “Aramis was raised very religious and he never strayed from it. I too, was raised religious and I do still believe, even if I don’t pray and say grace as much as Aramis over here. Athos isn’t religious.”   
“Neither am I,” d’Artagnan admits. He doesn’t delve further into it. They don’t expect him too, rather they just nod and take his word for it.   
“Bon appetite,” Athos says at last, raising his glass to bring out a cheer. D’Artagnan takes his own and they cheer happily, to their new relation. 

They’re just lying lazily on the couch, Aramis and d’Artagnan on one, Porthos and Athos on the other, enjoying the comfort and silence of each other while watching some TV. D’Artagnan isn’t that interested in the show, but he enjoys hugging with Aramis like this. When they head to bed, d’Artagnan hesitates for a moment, though. Athos is the first to notice.   
“You’re more than welcome, if you want,” he says, pecking d’Artagnan’s forehead. D’Artagnan nods and follows the man up. He doesn’t have any sleeping clothes with him and nobody offers him any. Which really should’ve been a sign in and on itself, as they all fall onto the bed in their boxers.   
“So, how do we want to welcome him, then?” Aramis asks, a big smirk on his face as he comes to straddle d’Artagnan’s hips. D’Artagnan’s hands immediately want to fly to hold him, but Athos and Porthos each catch one. When he looks, he sees they both have cuffs. And are trying to chain him to the head board.   
“You know, d’Artagnan, we’re not into SM ourselves,” Athos starts, “But we did figure we should introduce you properly. And we had a feeling you would not be able to keep your hands to yourself and let us treat you properly. So, unless you don’t want to, we’re going to tie you up and then we’re going to pleasure you.”  
“Why don’t you tell him what we’re planning to do, Athos?” Porthos chuckles. “You have no idea how good he is at talking dirty,” he winks at d’Artagnan.   
“We’re going to pleasure you and you’re not going to come until we allow you to. Aramis over there, has a very evilly skilful tongue and mouth and when his hand wraps around your erection, it’s like heaven and hell have combined. Porthos’ strong hands are very capable of massaging your body, help you relax under Aramis’ ministrations, and his erection, when it pokes against you, is the most delicious feeling. In the meantime, I will be kissing you lifeless, and I will make sure you’re very, very loud,” there’s no change from the man’s usual tones, still his cultured tone and accent, and it turns d’Artagnan on tremendously. He bucks his hips up.   
“And there will be none of that,” Aramis says, keeping him down. D’Artagnan barely refrains from letting out a whine so soon into it. But then, who can blame him. In the months that they’d lived here he’d basically fantasized so often about this, it shouldn’t surprise him if he can’t hold out long now that it’s actually true.   
“But a lot of this,” Athos says and then he leans in to kiss d’Artagnan. D’Artagnan is eager to let him in, chases after the man’s tongue, licks into his mouth, let’s his mouth be licked into and.. well, basically Athos was right. He’s going to be kissed senseless like this. He wouldn’t have thought it, but Athos is an extremely good kisser.   
And then, just as he’s enjoying that, Porthos’ hands move on his chest, trailing over his nipples, pinching and squeezing lightly before trailing over it with feather light touches enough to drive d’Artagnan crazy in and on itself. But combined with Athos’ kisses, it’s almost torture.   
And then Aramis joins in. He’s taken off d’Artagnan’s boxers and has his hand wrapped around him. He’s stroking very slowly, very deliberately, and d’Artagnan feels himself half falling apart under their touches.   
“Go on then. Moan. Beg. Whine. Let us hear what beautiful noises you make,” Athos says as he retracts, lips still brushing. And d’Artagnan lets out a heartfelt moan, which makes two men chuckle except that it sounds a little choked. Athos doesn’t waste his time on that, as he’s trailing kisses down d’Artagnan’s jaw. And then, because good lord in heaven, Athos was right, he moans louder than he’d imagined possible when the warm wetness of Aramis’ mouth surrounds his head. Only by two pair of strong hands on his hips keeping him down, he doesn’t buck up.   
“Aramis, please,” d’Artagnan begs when he never does more than surround the head. He needs more. He needs them to take him apart completely. Needs them to know his desperation. And Athos sucks a mark into his neck appreciatively.   
“Good. Beg some more. Beg until he gives in,” Athos whispers into his ear, trailing after it with a lick to the shell. D’Artagnan moans.   
“Please. Please,” he doesn’t feel like he can do more than say please. He surprises himself when he does. “Please, Aramis.” And then, when Aramis only smirks. “Porthos, please. Tell him,” he begs some more. But Porthos is just as infuriating.   
“You’re very pretty, all flustered and begging like this,” Athos tells him.   
“I’ll look even prettier when Aramis gives me what I fucking want,” d’Artagnan manages the whole sentence with just a single moan between it when Porthos pinches his nipple again.   
“Oh, look at that. He’s much more articulate than you two during sex,” Athos remarks, a smirk on his face. “I, for one, would be glad to reward that,” he adds before he delves into another passionate kiss. Even through their kiss d’Artagnan continues to moan and beg, and he’s finally rewarded when Aramis hollows his cheeks and descends lower. D’Artagnan very nearly comes then and there, and he moans louder than ever, but Aramis sensed it coming and pinches his base.   
“Aramis,” d’Artagnan whines into Athos’ mouth. Athos seems to appreciate it, for there’s a soft hum before he starts kissing properly again. Porthos chuckles even as his hands continue to do horribly excitable stuff to d’Artagnan’s chest.   
“You’re going to be coming so hard by the end of this, you’ll see stars,” Athos murmurs against his cheek when he retracts. And d’Artagnan doesn’t doubt it for a single second. But he does want to come, now rather than later, and he’s straining against the damn cuffs that don’t allow him to get Aramis’ fingers away from his base.   
“Now,” d’Artagnan only whines. His eyes are closed but he can still hear Porthos’ chuckle, feel Athos’ lips curl into a smirk and feel a hum (and god, if that’s not even better than all the rest yet) around his dick where Aramis laughs.   
“Such a greedy man, you are. We really should punish you for that,” d’Artagnan whines desperately when Athos retracts, no point of contact between them anymore. “But then, we’d be hypocrites, wouldn’t we? After all, we wanted three lovers as much as you do,” Athos whispers near his ear, but still not touching. “Or don’t you want us?”   
“Of course I fucking do, you bloody idiot,” it’s interrupted by two moans but the point gets across, apparently, because Aramis’ cheeks tighten even more around him and Porthos actually bends down to kiss him as Athos’ hands once again rest on d’Artagnan’s shoulder.   
“Tell us how much you want us then,” Athos murmurs. D’Artagnan has to bite his lip when a surge of powerful pleasure washes over him, but Aramis is still resisting his orgasm.   
“So, so fucking much. You’re so beautiful, and so funny, and so talented and such nice company and..” he wants to say more. He wouldn’t have a problem coming up with other reasons. But then Aramis rewards him by letting go and with a final suck d’Artagnan climaxes, hard.   
He feels like he’s actually blacked out, but he knows he has for just a moment when he sees Aramis’ face hovering over his own, looking amused.   
“Now, d’Artagnan, we seem to have encountered a little issue,” Athos starts.  
“Yes, because you’re not ready to go again, obviously. But both these greedy idiots want a taste of you. And only one can,” Aramis smirks. And despite his very recent intense climax, d’Artagnan lets out an appreciative moan.   
“I think Athos has tasted enough of me tonight,” d’Artagnan replies, looking at Porthos. Porthos grins broadly and he seems to utterly like the face of displeasure Athos is wearing when d’Artagnan turns to look at him. And then he chuckles and pulls Athos in for another kiss. Somewhere along, and he guesses it’s when Porthos had stopped messaging him, they’d climaxed already, and though he feels like he really, really should get to suck them all off, he realizes there’s going to be more nights to do so and they turn up, d’Artagnan easily cuddled up between Aramis and Athos.


	15. The morning after

D’Artagnan wakes up, despite the tangle of limbs, more content and relaxed than ever. He’s with his three lovers and he’s had the best climax of his life the night before. He yawns and blinks his eyes a few times and Aramis, who’s the only one awake at current, smiles at him.   
“Morning,” d’Artagnan smiles back. And then Aramis kisses him. It’s a slow, soft kiss and d’Artagnan easily melts into it. He could definitely get used to waking up with them every morning, especially if they kissed so gentle in the morning. It’s not as if Aramis didn’t have morning breath, but then, so did he, at least he assumed so, and he could actually appreciate the beauty of just being their own selves without putting up fronts like toothpaste first (even if he did like a clean breath better, obviously). And he has to chuckle about the way Aramis’ curls are pasted to his head on one side and just wild as hell on the other.   
“That’s what I call a morning all right, what a sight to wake up to,” Porthos says, leaning on one elbow to look at them. D’Artagnan blushes slightly but then Porthos leans over Aramis to give him a kiss as well.   
“What time is it anyway?” d’Artagnan asks. He realizes he’s got to open the shop sometime today. But he wasn’t in a hurry. He didn’t ever want to leave this bed. Didn’t want to wake up and go to the real world out there. Wanted to stay there with his lovers and friends and just cuddle and kiss some. Porthos reaches behind him for a random phone.   
“10.20,” is the reply. D’Artagnan nods. That’s acceptable. In a town like this, his date would’ve spread like wildfire anyway. It’s unlikely anyone that comes in today is there for the books. Although he is planning to open it, considering they’ll be in the shop which means they might buy books anyhow. For now though, he’s content to cuddle and be cuddled. 

Nearly two hours later find him and Athos actually opening the shop. Porthos and Aramis had both had to leave anyhow, and though Athos (who hadn’t woken up until the other three had left the bed and he didn’t have anyone to cuddle up to anymore) complained about getting there so early, he’d followed d’Artagnan without hesitation.   
“I mean, you did warn me you couldn’t be bothered with it. You could have stayed in bed. God knows I would have done so if I didn’t have a shop to run,” d’Artagnan points out.   
“Ah yes. And if you’ll excuse me, I am planning to leave in a few hours. After all, Porthos and Aramis are leaving this Saturday. And I.. have a surprise I want to have ready by then,” Athos smiles.   
“Of course not. You’re not actually employed here, you know? You’d be fired a few times over if you did,” d’Artagnan chuckles. “But, they’re leaving this Saturday? Already?”   
“Time flies, doesn’t it? Yes, they’ll be in London by Sunday,” Athos nods a little sadly.   
“Apparently. Wow. We really were dancing around it for quite some time, weren’t we?” d’Artagnan wonders. He feels like they’ve wasted a lot of time. But then.. Athos wouldn’t be leaving. And Aramis and Porthos would be back. It would be okay. And they still had nearly a whole week in between. He’d just have to spend as much time with the two as possible in that week.   
“We were. But I’m actually glad we did. It makes it all the better now that we finally do have each other,” Athos says with a quick peck to d’Artagnan’s cheek. And d’Artagnan, now able to actually show his affection, catches him in a hug.   
“Yeah, it does,” he sighs happily, leaning his face against the other man’s broad chest. He’s almost startled when the door opens and his mother and a friend of hers enter.   
“Hey mom,” he greets her with a broad smile. But his mom has an even broader smile, as she opens her arms and invites him for a hug. He chuckles as he dives into her arms instead and then he kisses her forehead.   
“So, it worked out then?” she asks looking between the two of them. Lila, her friend, is also looking rather excited, though d’Artagnan fears that might be for the wrong reasons. He liked her well enough, but she just loved gossiping. And she never truly understood his sexuality, though he hadn’t tried very hard to make people understand.   
“Yes, ma’am. I’d like to think it did,” Athos answers in his stead.   
“That’s wonderful,” she smiles. She means it. And then, after a moment of hesitation (Athos was known to be a distant guy after all), she offers him a hug as well. He accepts it, even if it’s a little stiff and awkward and short. D’Artagnan has to remember Lila is there or he’d probably laugh his ass off about it.   
“It really is,” d’Artagnan smiles instead. “Can I offer you some tea?”   
“No, that’s quite all right, sweetie. I have to be at the hospital in a bit,” when she sees d’Artagnan’s face she quickly adds, “Oh, don’t worry. Just a routine check-up. All old people get it,” she chuckles. “But I trust you do it properly, Charles. I’m expecting to meet my future son-in-laws soon.” D’Artagnan doesn’t know how to respond. Just because they’ve been dancing around it for so long doesn’t mean they might see themselves like that already. Hell, it’s only been a day. Who knows what could go wrong, though god forbid it does.   
“That sounds nice, Ms. D’Artagnan. We’ll be sure to pass it along to Aramis and Porthos,” Athos says, one hand on d’Artagnan’s lower back. A silent, comforting gesture.   
“Yeah. I’ll call you about it tomorrow,” d’Artagnan promises. And then they leave again and Athos turns to him.   
“You’re still worried about it, aren’t you?” d’Artagnan looks up at him.  
“Of course I am. I mean.. it’s so new. Of course I hope for the best. But what if?” and then he notices Athos’ expression. “You don’t?”   
“Not in the slightest,” Athos offers a smile.   
“How can you not be? I mean.. I suppose I could understand Aramis not being worried, hopeless romantic as he is, but you?” there’s a smirk on Athos’ face as he goes to sit down.   
“I suppose it’s in the way I was raised,” and that truly confuses d’Artagnan. So he sits down opposite him and puts on his most incredulous face (which isn’t that hard, really) and faces the man.   
“You were raised to just know relations work out, no matter what?” there’s an actual huff of laughter before Athos replies.   
“No, but I was raised to know what I want. And how to get it,” then he gets a way-too-innocent look on his face. ‘Basically, I was spoiled. Not to mention, being a count, no matter how little the title means nowadays, is a political job. I was taught how to deal with different personalities and combining them and bring them together from basically before I could talk.”  
“Not to be rude, or anything,” d’Artagnan starts, “But I know you hardly ever talk to anyone outside of the three of us.”  
“Ah yes. But there’s a different reason for that. What I mean to say, d’Artagnan, is that it will be okay. We love each other. All of us. Right?” d’Artagnan nods. “And we all knew it’s how we wanted to end up. We all know what it entails. There’s nothing to worry about, and if an issue should arise, we can easily solve it. No big deal,” Athos assures him.   
“And what if Porthos and Aramis don’t feel like fixing it?” he feels like a child, saying it. But it doesn’t change the situation. They’ve been a threesome for so long, and d’Artagnan is only now joining. Who’s to say they’re going to keep him once they get to know each other really thoroughly. Athos frowns.   
“I know what makes you say that, d’Artagnan, but I suggest you open your eyes and start using your brain. Neither of them is the kind to toy with your heart, and I will personally kick you if you claim they are,” d’Artagnan opens his mouth to protest but Athos holds up a hand. “I know that’s not what you meant. But for us, d’Artagnan, this is serious. Aramis might be a hopeless romantic, he’d never spent as long as he’s been working you for a simple attraction. He wants serious. Porthos may wear his heart on his sleeve, but that’s why he only allows those he values most to come close. And I would say you’ve gotten close. As for myself.. well, I don’t think I have to make it clear how I feel about it, but just in case, I do completely and utterly trust and love you. And if you were to leave us, you’d leave us all heart-broken,” d’Artagnan just sits there being silent for some time. And then he nods.   
“Yes. I believe you. And I know that. It’s just.. it’s a scary thing, you know?” d’Artagnan eventually mumbles to the floor.   
“I know. Lots of things are scary. But we’re there for you. All for one, as they say, right?”   
“And one for all,” d’Artagnan immediately adds in. Because he would do it for all of them. He may get to see Athos the most, that doesn’t mean he loves Porthos or Aramis any less. And it doesn’t mean they love him any less. And then he smiles. “Thank you.”   
“You have nothing to thank me for. Like I said, we’re there for you. That includes myself, if you hadn’t managed to deduce that yourself,” there’s a smirk on his face.   
“Oh, shut it you,” d’Artagnan chuckles. 

He meets up with Aramis in the hospital (he’d forgotten his dinner, or so he claimed, and d’Artagnan brought it over) and he stays there during break as well.   
“So, your mother seemed to know about us already,” Aramis says as he’s stirring the meal before putting it in the microwave.   
“Did you see her? Was her check-up okay?”  
“I was the one to conduct it, actually. Yes, your mother is a healthy, strong woman. But what else can you expect from a woman who gave birth to such a wonderful person,” Aramis replies, sitting in d’Artagnan’s lap, their chests touching. “But that doesn’t explain how she knew so quickly,” he adds with a smirk.   
“Oh. Well, she knew we had a date yesterday. So she came by the shop before coming here, and well.. that was that,” he concludes rather sheepishly as his arms instantly circle around the man in his lap. Aramis scents of disinfectant, but he’s still a nice presence.   
“Ah. That explains a lot. I suppose tomorrow the whole town knows then?”   
“I suppose so too,” d’Artagnan sighs and rolls his eyes. And then he smiles. “Though there’s worse things they could gossip about,” he chuckles. Aramis laughs and captures his lips in a gentle kiss.   
“Definitely. Though I have to warn you, people don’t understand three ways. Don’t even get them started on what happens if you add a fourth person,” he rolls his eyes.   
“I think I can handle that. I mean, unless you can’t,” d’Artagnan teases. And this makes Aramis laugh as he lifts himself and takes his food out of the microwave. He only comes back to once again sit in d’Artagnan’s lap though.   
“I sure can. And for you, d’Artagnan, I sure as hell want to,” Aramis says, eating a first bite before trailing his tongue semi-seductively over his fork. D’Artagnan laughs, grabbing his fork and feeding him instead. Aramis seems to enjoy that thoroughly and he leans further against d’Artagnan, and when the food’ gone, they nearly seem to melt into one.   
“You know, I really do love you,” Aramis whispers near his ear. “I wish we could all go to London together,” he adds a little sadly. And d’Artagnan presses his lips to the base of Aramis’ neck.   
“I wish so too. But that’s not possible. And it’d hardly be fair for me to come with you and leave poor Athos all alone. We’ll just have to make the most of it before then. And afterwards, we have lots of time,” d’Artagnan whispers back.   
“I suppose you’re right. Poor Athos might just do something stupid without supervision,” Aramis chuckles. “It’s a shame it’s got to be so soon after we finally get together though,” he sighs wistfully.   
“Well, you and Porthos are more than capable of having a good time on your own, I believe,” d’Artagnan chuckles. “At least, I remember one time when you two came into the musketeers looking as if you’d been helping Porthos with more than just his wrestling,” there’s a little moan from Aramis before he laughs.   
“I suppose you’re definitely right. And I’m more than sure you and Athos are capable of the same. Who knows, maybe we’ll go out of town, into some small cabin in the middle of nowhere when I get some more vacation days, all four of us. It’ll be nice.”  
“It really would be. We could just relax, the four of us. It’ll be good to take some time off from the shop,” at this Aramis stiffens. “What?”  
“I.. I have to admit I hadn’t thought about that,” he sounds guilty about that. “I mean.. I know it’s bad and all, but-“  
“Aramis, shut up, you idiot. I know what you mean. You’re used to Athos and Porthos who aren’t bound by vacation days. I mean, judging by what he told me, Porthos prefers wrestling with you as targets anyhow,” d’Artagnan laughs as he kisses the worry off Aramis’ face. Aramis kisses him back with vigour and both of them are startled out of their damn wit when a very excited Constance alerts them Aramis’ break is over. 

He goes back to the apartment.. his apartment now too, probably, to find Porthos in just his boxers on the couch. He knew already Athos would be out, preparing the grand surprise, and he’s actually somewhat excited about that. It gives him a chance to spend time with just Porthos as well. So he takes off his jacket and puts down his stuff (he’d collected some necessities, like his toothbrush) in the hall before coming up to Porthos.   
“Hey love,” Porthos greets him easily, spreading his arms. D’Artagnan dives into the hug and kisses Porthos jaw. Porthos catches his jaw between his fingers and holds his head still so he can turn his head and they kiss.   
“Or, you know, that’s another possibility,” d’Artagnan laughs.   
“A much better one, if you ask me,” Porthos wiggles his eyebrows. “I have to admit, I was surprised and disappointed when nobody was home when I got here,” there’s a silent question in it.   
“Athos had to go take care of something and Aramis was brilliant enough to forget ‘bout his dinner, so I brought it to him,” d’Artagnan quickly explains, getting up to pour some soda for himself. Then he calls out to Porthos what he wants.   
“Coke. What’d he have to arrange?”  
“I don’t know. Something about the family business,” d’Artagnan replies simply. Athos had instructed him to do so with the added message that neither Porthos nor Aramis would press on after that.   
“Oh? I didn’t know there was anything about that. Sorry,” Porthos says. d’Artagnan frowns a little, unseen by Porthos. There was more to Athos’ history than he knew, obviously, but it didn’t seem like the simple question should warrant an apology.   
“Mh. It gives us time to do something fun though,” d’Artagnan says, wiggling his frown away. There’s an inquiring look from Porthos before it disappears in favour of understanding. They’d come to the realization both of them liked gang beasts and super smash bros, which Athos and Aramis very much did not like.   
“I think the PlayStation controllers have to be charges, so I suggest smash?”  
“Sure,” d’Artagnan says, jumping up to put in the game. 

They’re still playing the game, even though they’ve punched (when one lost very unfairly) and kissed (because violence and passion go hand in hand) quite a bit, when Athos walks in an hour and a half later. He takes one look at the screen, rolls his eyes, and, after giving them both a quick kiss, continues up the stairs.   
“I’m gonna fucking kill that bastard,” Porthos grumbles when he realizes he’d died when Athos was distracting him. d’Artagnan laughs.   
“You don’t know which one it was,” he points out.   
“I don’t care. I’ll kill all the fuckers. Including you,” d’Artagnan punches him again.   
“I’m not a fucker,” he automatically replies.   
“Oh, excuse me. A fuckee then?” there’s a smirk on his face which d’Artagnan can’t resist kissing off.   
“I like both, FYI, but I was talking about the game,” he winks and rubs at Porthos’ crotch once before going back to the game and kicks Porthos off the stage while he’s distracted.   
“Oh, that was just a coward’s act,” Porthos protests, before straddling d’Artagnan’s lap and pinning his arms to the side. “You should be punished for that,” he adds before biting at d’Artagnan’s shoulder before sucking a deep mark into it.   
“If I’d know there was stuff like this in the game I wouldn’t mind having joined,” Athos remarks as he comes back down and walks across the living room to get himself some wine. D’Artagnan ignores him in favour of sucking his own mark into Porthos’ skin while Porthos laughs.   
“A game is what you make of it, my love,” Porthos says. “Although, perhaps not what you make of it. After all, we’d always be having sex rather than just gaming,” Porthos adds when d’Artagnan, satisfied with his work, retracts.   
“I’m a man who enjoys the intimate pleasures. Can you blame me, with such wonderful boyfriends?” he retorts easily as he sits down on the lounge chair.   
“Yes,” Porthos and d’Artagnan reply at the same time. Athos only glares at them.   
“You two are too much alike,” he decides. That earns him a laugh from both men. “If you really want a game which justifies this behaviour, you should play twister instead.”   
“We still have that?” Porthos asks.   
“We should,” Athos shrugs. And then Porthos is away searching for it. D’Artagnan has to laugh about his excitement, but it quickly dies down when a loafer is thrown his way. That earns him a smirk from Athos, whom he pulls a face to.   
“Found it,” Porthos announces a few moments later. He comes back carrying the box with a big smile on his face. “Athos, you turn first,” he tosses the cardboard his way while putting the game itself on the floor and taking his place one end of it. D’Artagnan, on his part, takes the other side. He’s remarkably flexible for a man, he’d noticed, so he’s actually looking forward to showing off.   
“Left hand red,” Athos says. And so it begins.  
It’s not until they’re quite a few moves in, with d’Artagnan in a very compromising position under Porthos, that d’Artagnan notices Athos isn’t even pretending to spin the damn thing anymore. He’s just looking at them, the dots and trying to determine which would be funniest/hardest.   
“You’re a cheat,” d’Artagnan remarks.   
“Right foot on blue,” he replies, looking challenging. D’Artagnan sighs and puts his foot on blue. Which puts him directly in front of Porthos crotch. “You’re welcome,” he adds. And d’Artagnan, because he’s been horny the whole day, and twister is making it entirely worse and god, but Porthos is beautiful, opens his mouth and circles it around the tent, pressing open-mouthed kisses to it that make Porthos groan and buck up before his knees give in and he falls down.   
“D’Artagnan,” Porthos wines. D’Artagnan chuckles, undoing the fastenings on his trousers. He trails over the skin on his stomach, hard with muscle, and then pulls the whole thing, trousers and boxers, down in one go, revealing his erection in all its glory.   
“Yes? Don’t you want this?” d’Artagnan’s face is deliberately a mask of innocence and Porthos groans and pulls him toward him for a kiss.   
“I do. Stop being a tease,” he grumbles when he lets go.   
“I could. But then again, after what you did to me yesterday,” he pretends to ponder over it. But fact is, he’s too excited and horny himself to have that much control. He wants Porthos’ dick in his mouth, and he wants to now.   
“Oh, you little fuck,” Porthos grumbles making d’Artagnan chuckle before he dives in, licking around the head of it. Unlike what his large stature may suggest, he’s not an inch over average, if not smaller. D’Artagnan doesn’t care. He’s never been a size queen. As long as you do it right, anything can work, is his motto. And Porthos fits nicely into his palm when he wraps around it. And Porthos lets out something of a whine combined with a rumble, bucking his hips up with passion. D’Artagnan doesn’t stop him, he’s not in yet anyhow.   
“You like this?” d’Artagnan teases. The glare Porthos sends, along with the needy little moan, is enough to convince him that, yes, he very much does. And so he dives back into it, his tongue circling the head while his hand works on the base. And then, with the first steady flow of precum, he fully takes it into his mouth.   
“Oh, god damn. D’Artagnan,” Porthos moans, his hips only barely backing up now, scared to hurt d’Artagnan, and he appreciates it. He’s no virgin, but he’s not that much of a slut that he can handle that. “Oh god. Athos, he’s brilliant,” d’Artagnan looks up through his lashes, first Porthos, who’s closed his eyes and his mouth is wide-open and sweating a little. And then at Athos, who’s still leaning calmly in his lounge chair, despite the tent in his trousers, with an intense look on his face as he watches them.   
“I can imagine. You two make quite the exquisite picture,” he voices. D’Artagnan looks away, to focus fully on his task, as he hollows his cheeks around Porthos, sucking him in.   
“Oh, god,” Porthos once again moans, “You.. d’Artagnan, I’m gonna,” d’Artagnan puts one hand on his chest, to let him know he understands (he’d been having trouble) as he continues. They’re lovers now. It feels good to swallow one’s lovers seed, d’Artagnan thought. And then he hums in understanding as well, and Porthos blows his load.   
“You’re good at this,” Porthos remarks, once sane enough to do so. D’Artagnan gives a proud little smile. And then he gets up to walk to Athos. He wants to do it to him too. And to Aramis, but that’ll have to wait, considering he was still at work. He kneels in front of him, and Athos leans in to swipe a bit of seed off the corner of his lip and licks it off his own finger. He’s not doing anything else though, and d’Artagnan decides to take charge. He undoes the fastening on his trousers as well, but in his seated position, he can’t work them off. Athos smirks at this.   
“I might as well leave you here and take care of myself, you know,” d’Artagnan says when the man makes no move to disrobe himself.   
“You might. By all means, go ahead,” there’s once more a challenge in his eyes and d’Artagnan realizes they both know d’Artagnan wants this really badly. And so he stays there, rather than leaving and Athos looks amused.  
“Just get up then,” d’Artagnan urges. After a quick little smirk he does so and allows d’Artagnan to push his trousers down. Only to find.. “You’re quick to assume,” he notes at the lack of underwear.   
“Actually, d’Artagnan, I find it’s quite a free sensation not to wear underwear. I rarely ever do,” Athos admits and d’Artagnan has to laugh about that. But then he focuses on the man’s erection, prominent from his crotch, and he sees he’s going to need to do his actual best.   
He’d seen the man before, in the restroom when he’d taken care of Athos when Porthos and Aramis had to go during his bad day. He’d seen he had a fairly sizable dick, if not anything to brag about. But he was soft then, and with his own arousal and their positions, he couldn’t see Athos yesterday. But the man was definitely a grower. This was quite the erection to brag about. In fact, it might just be the biggest d’Artagnan’s seen.   
“Quite the thing to take in, isn’t it?” Porthos laughs from his own position.  
“You could go into porn with this thing,” d’Artagnan whispers. That earns him another laugh. And he looks at Athos, who’s looking sheepish (at least, much as Athos can look sheepish). “You did porn?”   
“Not quite that. As I told you before, I worked in a porn shop. My boss had the same reaction, and he did ask me to do live shows,” he admits.   
“And you did?” d’Artagnan has to be surprised. The man might not be one to be shy about these subjects, he definitely seemed shy about people.   
“Once. It was already something that was done anyhow, I didn’t think anything of it. But I’d never actually been there. And once I was, it became clear it was more of an attraction than I’d anticipated. I never went again,” Athos admits. D’Artagnan doesn’t know what to say. And neither of the other men seem fit to speak up, so rather than speaking, he does the only thing he can think of. He pulls Athos in for a kiss, and they melt into it.   
“It’s not gonna suck itself,” Porthos sounds amused, when they’ve been kissing for quite some time. D’Artagnan glares at him, but does move downward. He wraps his palm around Athos, even if it’s a slightly more awkward with the additional girth. And then he licks around it, and after a while, it feels pretty natural. He can’t quite fit it all in, like he could with Porthos, when he wraps his mouth around it, but he can definitely treat the head with all the passion it deserves and he uses his hands to keep wrapping about him, rubbing him and fondling his balls. Athos, throughout the whole ordeal, doesn’t let out a single noise, except for a small warning he’s about to come.   
“Go on then,” d’Artagnan mumbles around him. Nobody can make out the words, but the vibrations do the trick nonetheless and a moment later d’Artagnan is swallowing his seed instead. He releases Athos carefully before sitting back on his haunches, with Porthos coming to sit behind him and wrap his arms around his waist.   
“You’re really good at this,” Porthos remarks and then he kisses d’Artagnan. 

They sit around the TV (Athos reading a book), sated and well, a few minutes later. The programs at the moment are bad at best though, so d’Artagnan’s mind automatically drifts back to earlier.   
“You know, Athos,” this draws his attention, if only made clear by the raising of a brow. “For someone who kept coaxing noises out of me, you’re remarkably silent yourself.”   
“I’m not such an ego-centric that I love the sound of my own voice that much,” Athos remarks, never looking up from his book.   
“But we might.”  
“Do you?”   
“Of course,” this makes Athos look up from his book at last.   
“My apologies then. Porthos and Aramis don’t care either way,” d’Artagnan doesn’t understand, and he’s about to phrase that, when his face apparently gives him away.   
“Old buildings have very thin walls, d’Artagnan. And the La Fere estate is very old indeed. Unless I wanted to have a lot to explain the next day, I had to be silent. A habit learned young is a habit hard to forget,” he explains.   
“Is that why you like it when we make noise?” d’Artagnan wonders. Athos shrugs.   
“I don’t know. But I will try and get out of my habit, if it pleases you.”   
“Besides, it’s not that hard to kick him out of habits,” Porthos chuckles. d’Artagnan raises a brow to look at him. “Did you really think an upcoming count would be allowed to go commando?”   
“Nobody was to see me without trousers,” Athos protests.   
“Ah? Really? So you didn’t have a bunch of servants constantly swarming about the house who might just catch you without your underwear?” the lack of reaction is enough.   
“I’m no longer that person. What do I care for those habits?” Athos eventually answers.   
“No, you’re not. You’re our lovely little boyfriend, with his unabashed love for any and all intercourse and strange little kinks, and we love you for it,” Porthos says, straddling Athos’ lap. This makes Athos smile as he leans up to capture Porthos lips.


	16. The surprise

The rest of the week passes way too quickly to d’Artagnan’s tastes, even though he gets to spend more time alone with Porthos and Aramis with Athos being out late to prepare whatever the surprise is every evening, Aramis and he sharing dinner at the hospital every day and he and Porthos spending the rest of the evening cuddled up on the couch doing whatever.   
But today, it’s Friday. Which means that they’ll be leaving tomorrow. Which d’Artagnan is horribly dreading. He wants them to stay. He wants them all to go. He just.. he wants all four together. And everyone else feels the same, for they hardly ever don’t touch each other.   
“I have a surprise for you,” Athos announces at 2 o’clock.   
“Oh? What is it?” Aramis is awfully excited. Athos smiles.   
“Not going to tell you. But we have to leave in thirty minutes. Make sure to dress nicely,” Athos says.   
“We always do,” Aramis sounds indignant about it. Porthos chuckles at that as he too gets ready.   
“I’ll have to collect something at home,” d’Artagnan says. he doesn’t really have anything he can imagine is the ‘nice’ Athos means at this moment, but it’s better than what he has here. Athos pulls his arms before he can walk away though and walks them into the spare bedroom. He grabs a box from one of the shelves and hands it to d’Artagnan.  
“Wear this,” he only says. d’Artagnan opens it to find a very chic tuxedo in it.   
“Will it fit?” he inquires. Remarkably skinny (body building just didn’t work for him), he had quite the different physique from his three boyfriends. Aramis was lean but very fit. Athos has the body of a bodybuilder who didn’t want to go overboard. Porthos looks like a bodybuilder who did go overboard. He can imagine he’d drown in anything Porthos owned and wouldn’t fare that much better in Athos’ and Aramis’ suits.   
“It should. I had it made for you,” he says. And then he turns around to find his own suit. 

They drive to Paris in Athos’ car, for whatever reason, and then Athos continues driving until they’re at a car park near the centre of the city. They continue by foot until they’re at the very foot of the Eiffel tower, and then Athos leads them upwards.   
“Tell me we’re not going to the restaurant?” Porthos inquires. D’Artagnan actually halts in his tracks. Of course, there’s was a restaurant in the Eiffel tower. It never even dawned on him they were going there.   
“We are,” Athos replies simply.   
“Athos! Are you crazy?” Porthos sounds upset. “How did manage that without giving your name?”  
“Why do you think I was out so much? Don’t worry, Porthos, I got it covered. Nobody here is going to know who I am,” he promises. And then they reach the restaurant and a lady comes up to greet them.   
“Good evening, gentlemen,” she greets them.   
“Good evening,” Athos says with the slightest bow. “Reservations should be made for us by law firm Fleur de Lys?”   
“Ah, yes. A delegation of four. If you sign in here, I will escort you to your table,” she points to a notebook on the counter. Athos does go to sign and they’re lead to a table by the window, with a view over the centre of Paris from up in the Eiffel tower. D’Artagnan and Aramis both stare outside with enthusiasm and with a laugh from Porthos and an amused smirk from Athos, they decide to give them the window seats as well.   
“It’s quite beautiful from up here. Prettier than it looked from the dorm,” d’Artagnan remarks.   
“Dumas is in a bad part though,” Porthos says. “It’d be a lot better if you were in a nicer part.”   
“Maybe so, but Dumas had what I wanted,” d’Artagnan shrugs. “Besides, I had a lot of fun. And I got to explore who I am, maybe because of that.” Porthos nods.   
“I know what you mean,” he admits. And then the waitress comes to give them their menus and to get their orders on drinks. 

“That was amazing, Athos. Thank you,” Aramis says, kissing his lover passionately on the mouth on their way down. Athos’ arm wraps around Aramis’ waist and they keep walking closely together, Porthos and d’Artagnan right behind them.   
“It really was,” Porthos agrees.  
“You deserve amazing,” Athos voices, craning his head to look at them as well. “So, want to remain in Paris longer? Now that we’re here anyway.”   
“Yeah. I have someone I want to introduce d’Artagnan too,” Porthos announces with a gleam in his eye. Aramis and Athos don’t seem surprised, but they let Porthos lead the way. It doesn’t take d’Artagnan long before he notices they’re in the court.   
“Porthos, are you sure we should be heading here?” d’Artagnan asks. He lived in Paris long enough to know that outsides weren’t welcome here. At best.   
“Yeah. I grew up here.”   
“You grew up here? In the court?” d’Artagnan probably can’t keep his surprise out of his voice, and Porthos blushes and watches the ground carefully. D’Artagnan, realizing that might’ve been a little insensitive, immediately wraps his arms around the man in a hug. “I didn’t mean- I had no idea, is all.”   
“That’s okay. But I grew up here, yeah. Took me ages to get out of here as well. If it wasn’t for wrestling, I think I might still be living here,” Porthos admits. And then he looks at Aramis. “Though, admittedly, I think Aramis would’ve worked it out for me,” he smiles gratefully and Aramis takes the hand offered to him. and that’s how they walk, hand in hand and waist to waist, through the streets of the court until they reach their apparent destination.   
“Porthos! How good to see you,” a woman exclaims when she opens the door. “Hey Aramis, Athos,” she adds with less enthusiasm but still sounding very friendly.   
“Flea! Wow, it’s been so long. Hey Louis,” Porthos laughs as a kid runs out the door and greets him as well. “My, you’ve grown big and strong since last I saw you.”  
“But I’m already eight now,” he says. “Just you wait. Soon, I’ll be bigger and stronger than you,” he announces with a wide smile and eyes full of hope.   
“Who’s this,” Flea then asks, turning to look at d’Artagnan.   
“This is d’Artagnan. Our new lover,” he announces. “d’Artagnan, this is Flea. My sister in all but blood,” he smiles at her proudly. “And my little cousin Louis.”   
“I’m not little,” Louis protests.   
“Of course you aren’t. Come here then. Why don’t you give your uncles a hug?” Aramis asks, holding his arms open. The little boy jumps excitedly out of Porthos’ embrace to hug Aramis and Athos as well. And then, a little more hesitant, he hugs d’Artagnan too.   
“Athos, mommy says I can’t fence. But I really want to,” Louis whines when they’re fully settled inside. Porthos and Athos are sitting very close to him on either side, apparently having sensed his nerves.   
“Louis, don’t bother Athos with it. I’ve already told you why not,” Flea says, rolling her eyes behind little Louis’ back.   
“But I really want to. And he’s very good at it,” Athos reaches out to pick the boy up and put him in his lap.   
“But I think you should listen to your mommy. If she says you can’t, I’m sure there’s a good reason,” that earns him a very betrayed look. And then Athos smiles. “That doesn’t mean that I can’t teach you a few things next time I come by?”   
“Yeah! Do that!” Louis’ hands clap excitedly.   
“There, you got what you wanted, you little brat. Time for you to go to bed, like I said an hour ago,” there’s a gentle tug to her lips and a brightness in her eyes that betrays her words though.   
“But mommy! I like my uncles,” he whines, pouting.   
“How about I come and read to you then?” Aramis offers. And that is enough to make Louis go to his bedroom, even if he does hesitate for a moment.   
“Are you coming to say goodnight when Aramis is done?” he asks before he’s out of the room.   
“Of course, silly. What makes you think I wouldn’t?” Porthos promises. And then he turns to Flea, who’s looking at d’Artagnan suspiciously. “Quit doing that, Flea. I love him, he loves me and that’s the end of it. I only wanted you two to meet.”  
“I know you have a big heart, Porthos, but how many lovers can you possibly want? Even that bed of yours won’t hold out if you keep adding people.”   
“You know it’s not like that Flea. And you reacted exactly the same way with Athos. And look how that turned out,” Porthos grabs Athos’ hand in d’Artagnan’s lap.   
“Yeah, I know.. but.. Porthos, I love you too. I don’t want you to get hurt,” there’s a direct threat to d’Artagnan, and probably Athos too (d’Artagnan can sense that somewhere under the surface the two don’t get along great), in that phrase and d’Artagnan feels the need to speak up.   
“Ma’am, if I may?” the ma’am earns him a surprised amusement, but she nods anyhow. “I do love Porthos. And while I can’t guarantee I won’t ever hurt him, I will do my very best not to. He’s just.. he’s so amazing. He’d never deserve even the slightest discomfort and I would never leave him unless he asked me too.” He promises. He starts out looking at Flea, but ends looking at Porthos. Who smiles and kisses his gently and shortly.   
“Oh Porthos. I’m sure you’re right, d’Artagnan, but I’m just afraid for you,” she admits. “I realize it’s the way you are, and I accept that. But I’m just so afraid it will turn badly at some point.”   
“We’ve both had to endure too much hardship, Flea. That doesn’t mean everything will. We’ll find happiness. Both of us. You with Charon and Louis, and me with d’Artagnan, Athos and Aramis,” Porthos takes her hand in his free one. And then he considers. “Why can’t Louis fence anyway?”   
“You know why,” there’s a glare.   
“I promised you I’d help.” There’s a silent understanding between them and though d’Artagnan is curious, he just leans slightly further into his lovers.   
“I can deal with it, Porthos. The boy doesn’t have to fence. What does he need it for anyway?”   
“Well, I mean, it was my way out.” Flea sighs. And then sighs again. But before she can say anything, Louis’ voice comes from the other room, calling for them. 

“I doubt Flea will ever warm up to me,” Athos remarks when they’re on their way back. Athos is looking at Porthos in the rear view mirror. The lack of response from Porthos is enough.   
“What did you do anyway? She doesn’t seem like someone to hold grudges just like that,” d’Artagnan says. He’ll admit she was threatening. And he was very sure she was streetwise, and could easily beat him up. But she was also a very sweet woman whom just seemed to want the best for those she cares about. Something d’Artagnan can appreciate.   
“Growing up,” Athos mumbles. He’d never heard Athos mumble sober before. And there’s obvious tension in the car. And suddenly, d’Artagnan knows he shouldn’t have brought it up. He puts one hand on Porthos’ thigh as he leans his head on the big man’s shoulder, knowing he can’t comfort Athos from back here and trusting Aramis too.   
“That’s not entirely true,” Aramis says, and he sounds like he wants to say more, but Athos interrupts him.   
“It’s not. She doesn’t blame me for that. She blames me for how I was raised. Thinks I am no more than a spoilt brat.”  
“That’s not true,” Porthos protests.   
“Isn’t it?” there’s a silence. “See? Listen, Porthos, I won’t pretend that I understand her situation. I don’t. But what I do know is that she blames me that I grew up the way I did. She blames me because I don’t have to worry about how to pay my rent. And I wouldn’t care about that. It’s unfair that it’s so unevenly divided. But she thinks that that defines me, no matter what I try to do to prove her wrong. She thinks I didn’t have any hardship to endure, because how could I?”   
“That’s not-“  
“I know my hardship is in no way comparable to what you had to endure. And I realize that I had all the means necessary to get over it. And that my life was indeed very simple and easy before it happened. But she just.. she doesn’t realize, at not a single point, that I suffered as well. I lost my entire family all in one week. And to top it all off, I had to be reminded of it, every paper, every radio station, every news channel, for weeks, was talking about what happened and how it happened.”  
“I know Athos. I know,” Porthos has one hand on Athos’ shoulder. “I know you had hard times. But Flea.. her life is one hard time. She doesn’t hate you for you. She hates you for what you represent. Everything she couldn’t have. Can’t give Louis. Not you.”   
“I’ve offered to help,” Athos says, though it sounds more like an automatic response.   
“So have we. And yet we still have no idea what happened. I’m not saying you should tell us now. But maybe you should think about that next time you judge Flea based on that.” Athos remains silent about that. 

The rest of the car ride is silent, mostly, and they turn into bed nearly straight away when they arrive home. And then the next morning the alarm goes off early for Porthos and Aramis to get ready. They don’t actually have to leave until 4 PM, but they still have to pack and everything. And fortunately, the mood of last night is gone, and now they’re all talking and making jokes and laughing again.   
“Please do not let Athos enter the kitchen under any circumstances to make food. It goes wrong. Tie him down for all I care, just.. not even microwave meals. I bet he could even explode those,” Aramis warns d’Artagnan during lunch.   
“Athos is allowed into the kitchen for drinks only. And not even coffee. He already broke down one machine,” Porthos adds.   
“You broke a coffee machine? How’d you manage that?” d’Artagnan asks. Athos only glares at all three in response.   
“I didn’t break it. They broke it and blame me for it.”  
“You absolutely broke it you bastard,” Aramis chuckles. “Okay, so Athos likes his coffee pure pitch black. We don’t. So we had a special blend. And he didn’t understand that. And he kept trying to make black coffee until he did something, god knows what, wrong and it actually broke down,” he explains.   
“How was I supposed to know it was a special blend?” Athos complains.   
“Because it was on the package. Mild coffee. It was there in like a font this size,” Porthos demonstrates by spreading his hands. “Kind of hard to miss.”   
“I thought it was remarkably easy to miss.”  
“We noticed,” they both laugh.


	17. See ya!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, guys, I'm so sorry about the late update. Life's been hectic the last couple weeks and as a result I have a creative imagination that just about equals a freaking brick. 
> 
> I would like to promise to update faster next time, but considering I'm not at all sure I could pull that off, I won't.   
> Also, I SHOULD be posting a much longer story on the musketeers at the end of November, because I'm partaking in the nonawrimo challenge. The reason why I say this, is partly because I imagine a lot of people on AO3 are authors too, and maybe they would be interested in joining. I would love to read your stories :D The other part is because that means that there will be NO updates on this story during November. I know it's not quite yet, but I just wanted to let you guys know 
> 
> For those of you who've never heard of it, it's a.. well, site that challengers writers to complete a story, or novel as they call it, of 50.000 words in a month (that's the goal anyway, it can be longer or shorter), where you can talk to other writers and such if you're lacking inspiration and such things. A friend of mine has been partaking for the past three years and she's so excited about it, I just have to try it myself and I think a lot of you would like it too!  
> For those interested, you should check it out: http://nanowrimo.org/

They’re at the airport a few hours later, and their plane is leaving in a bit already.  
“Don’t forget to buy a new phone tomorrow, Athos. We actually do want to be able to call you,” Aramis reminds him.   
“And make sure to text the number to us as well, because otherwise it’ll be useless as fuck,” Porthos adds.   
“And for god’s sake, if you come back with a Nokia, I will force you to pay for all the texts we have to send,” Aramis finishes.   
“So, buy a phone, text the number, no Nokia? Easy enough. I’ll just take a Motorola,” Athos says with a smirk. Porthos and Aramis look exasperated, though a little amused as well. “Just make sure you get to the hotel safely,” he kisses them both.   
“Yeah, yeah,” Porthos chuckles. “And don’t forget our ID’s and don’t forget the tickets and don’t forget our cases and don’t forget each other and blablabla. You done yet?” Athos raises an amused eyebrow.   
“Please try not to empty my bank account,” he adds with a shrug.   
“I make no promises,” Aramis laughs.   
“We won’t,” Porthos says, only slightly more serious and not exactly making it clear if they won’t empty it or if they won’t make promises.   
“Mh. I mean, we’re there for so long. Room service would probably be good.”   
“Oh yeah. And just imagine the message parlour there. I mean, sports and massages are very good combinations,” Porthos adds. Athos mock-punches them.   
“Well, I mean.. if massages are good, maybe you should get them from Aramis. Happy ending massages are even better,” d’Artagnan says with a wink. “And he’s a nurse after all.”   
“I like the way you think. So, massages are off. But chocolate fondue is very nice for feeding purposes.”  
“That I’ll never argue with,” d’Artagnan laughs. “Though, admittedly. It doesn’t even have to include chocolate.”  
“Or food,” Athos adds. And that makes all three of them laugh.   
‘Plane 343, boarding is starting’ Porthos and Aramis look a little sad as they hug and kiss their lovers a quite thorough farewell and then they actually board the plane, leaving d’Artagnan and Athos standing there waving them off. 

“What time is it?” Athos asks when they’re on their way back. D’Artagnan grabs his phone.   
“Nearly four. Why?”   
“Might as well get a phone now. Saves us from having to drive to Paris tomorrow,” Athos reasons as they’re approaching the city.   
“Yeah, true,” d’Artagnan nods. And then they head into the city, parking the car somewhere and going into an electronics shop. “Do you even know what kind of phone you want though?”   
“Nope, but that’s why they have salesmen, right?” d’Artagnan huffs.   
“Nope, they have salesmen so they can convince everyone to buy the exact same thing at double the price,” he protests.   
“You’re a salesman,” Athos points out a little amused.   
“Ah, yes. One of the few honest and just ones,” d’Artagnan rolls his eyes. “A.K.A. I sell books, not phones. You can hardly do that with books.”   
“Would you?”  
“No, of course not. That doesn’t mean these people won’t.”  
“Doesn’t mean they will either. But if you want, you pick a phone for me then,” Athos decides. He’s looking at the various phones. He grabs one huge-ass device. “Does this fit in any pocket?”   
“Cargo pants maybe,” d’Artagnan shrugs. “But large screens are kinda nice.”  
“You have a large screen,” at his looks Athos adds. “Compared to the one I had.”  
“Yeah, because you had an iPhone. And what with you and technology, it’s probably smartest if you pick an iPhone now too,” d’Artagnan says.   
“I do understand technology. I just don’t care for it,” Athos protests.   
“Oh really?”  
“Yeah.”   
“Okay then. Figure this one out. Then we’ll go from there,” he hands his lover a random phone. He sees later it’s a windows phone and is about to pull it back but Athos actually seems very capable of working with it. “Wow, you’re the first person I meet who can decently work with a windows phone at their first attempts,” d’Artagnan voices.   
“I may not always seem like it, d’Artagnan, but I am smart. I actually like this one. I think I’ll buy it,” Athos announces, looking at the other options. “Or maybe this one, it’s the same system, right?” he asks just to be sure.   
“You do like the large ones, don’t you?”  
“If I did, I wouldn’t be dating the three of you,” Athos replies without missing a beat. And it takes a moment before d’Artagnan realizes his mistake.   
“Hey, I’m not small,” he protests.   
“I never said you were. But you’re not big,” Athos doesn’t even look up from the other phone. “So, which one would you chose?” he asks, finally looking. And seeing d’Artagnan’s face. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize you were sensitive about it,” he kisses d’Artagnan. “For what it helps, I think your size is perfect.”   
“I’m sure you do,” d’Artagnan huffs, even if he’s not actually feeling insulted.   
“What? Oh come on, you should know you’re well above average. Besides, that’s not what anyone cares about. At least, not the three of us. It’s what you do with your inches,” there’s a naughty smirk there. And d’Artagnan can’t exactly keep the façade on his face at that remark. “So, which one?”   
“Well, I would try and see if that one actually fits in your pocket as a first measure,” he says. Athos puts the bigger one in his pocket and it does fit. “Huh. I wasn’t expecting that. Your other trousers as well?”  
“I would assume so. These are one of the more skinny I have, thanks to Aramis,” Athos admits with a fond roll of his eyes. “So, which one then?”   
“I’m not an expert at this. I’d take that one, I guess,” he points to the bigger one.   
“I’ll take it then,” Athos shrugs easily and buys the phone. 

They’re lying in bed, which is entirely too big for just two people, with Athos trying to configure his new phone. He’s already given his number to them and he’s even gone on a limb to pass it to his uncle. And now he’s doing the rest of it.   
“We have all day tomorrow. Why not just do it then?” d’Artagnan asks, stifling a yawn. The light’s already off, but a large screen at max. brightness is also a lot of light.   
“Oh, my apologies. I didn’t realize it was bothering you,” Athos says, putting the phone away and turning to spoon d’Artagnan. D’Artagnan buries himself closely against him. “Goodnight d’Artagnan.”  
“Night,” he mumbles in reply. 

“What are we going to do today?” d’Artagnan wonders when it’s nearly three o’clock and neither of them come up with ideas and both are bored.   
“I could come up with some ideas,” Athos wiggles his brows.   
“We’d be old men by the time they came back, if I give into that every time,” d’Artagnan chuckles. he’d learned enough, both by noticing himself and being told by Aramis and Porthos, that Athos was almost always in the mood, even if he could hide it perfectly in front of other people.   
“Ah, that might be true. I don’t know then,” Athos admits. D’Artagnan sighs. “We could maybe visit your mother? She seemed awfully put-off that she wouldn’t be meeting us formally until after Aramis and Porthos get back,” he suggests.   
“Would you even like that?” d’Artagnan wonders. “You do realize mom will try to get answers out of you,” he warns.   
“I would. And I’ve been evading giving answers that could give it away for six years d’Artagnan. I think I can manage. Besides, if you trust her, I trust her,” he adds.   
“I’ll call her then. See if she has time.”

“Hey mom,” d’Artagnan greets her an hour later with a hug. She returns it enthusiastically and then he steps aside to properly introduce Athos. But before he can say anything, his mom has given the man the same procedure.   
“Come in. I’m baking pie,” she announces when d’Artagnan sniffs the air. He rolls his eyes with a huge-ass smile.   
“Trying to win his heart or poison him?” d’Artagnan jokes.   
“Oh, I’m sure I won’t need to poison him. It doesn’t seem like he would hurt you,” she smiles broadly at the both of them, even if there’s the edge of: and if you do, you’d better fucking run. Athos smiles politely.   
“I wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am,” he replies. “I love your son. Very much,” Athos turns to look at d’Artagnan and take his hand when he says it and d’Artagnan can’t help the small blush from appearing on his cheeks.   
“I wouldn’t have imagined it. Now, please sit down, I don’t bite,” she chuckles. Athos takes a seat on the chair and d’Artagnan joins his mom on the couch. A silence dawns upon them, that d’Artagnan quickly experiences as awkward. Though, knowing Athos, he’ll be fine.   
“So, mom, I heard you were going to visit aunt Eve next week,” d’Artagnan starts then, just for the sake of having something to talk about.   
“Oh, yes. Did I not tell you? I’ll be gone Monday to Friday,” she replies. “Little Mick is graduating already, can you believe it?”   
“Really? Isn’t he like 10?” d’Artagnan wonders. It’d been ages since he’d seen them, considering they were actually living in the UK and he wasn’t. But still, how could the kid already be graduating.  
“No, dear, he’s 17. He wasn’t that much younger than you,” she laughs. 

The awkwardness dies down a little, fortunately, and Athos and May have even started talking during dinner.  
“So, Athos, I don’t really know anything about you. Why don’t you tell me?” she asks after she’s put the dirty plates away. At a curious look from Athos she elaborates. “You know, like, where you’re from, what you studied, what you do for a living, such things.”   
“I grew up in Pinon, not far from Paris. Only a little bigger than this town though. I studied justice.”  
“Law?” May interrupts.   
“Partly, yes.”  
“I’ve never heard of a study named justice, to be honest,” Athos smiles a little.   
“It’s not a very common one, admittedly. I was one of seven total people who did it. But it’s a combination of all types of justice.”  
“How did you end up there then?” d’Artagnan, who’d been paying only a little attention considering he already knew those things about Athos, notices the man is looking at him.   
“Mom, you can’t tell anyone about this. Not even your friends,” d’Artagnan says easily, recognizing the look for what it is. His mother looks fairly surprised but nods anyway.   
“I won’t tell what isn’t mine to tell. It’s clear you value your privacy Athos, and I will not break your trust. Unless, of course, you do hurt Charles,” she adds. Athos once again allows a little smile.   
“it’s a good thing I wasn’t planning on that,” Athos says, reaching for d’Artagnan. And d’Artagnan grants him the use of himself as a security blanket.   
“Then your secrets shall be safe with me,” there’s still a little hesitation from Athos, but he braces ahead anyway.   
“I had no choice in my study. As a count, I was to study justice, whether I liked it or not. Fortunately though, I did,” there’s a silence as Mis d’Artagnan takes it in.   
“You’re a count?”  
“Was. A relative of mine now holds the title. I still work for the firm, but I didn’t want to keep it.”   
“Oh. That.. well, that actually does explain why you’re the most polite person I’ve ever met,” she chuckles, and d’Artagnan isn’t sure if it’s more than just nerves, but who can blame her. He was glad Athos didn’t tell him, rather just showed him his name while away. It gave him the time needed to process it. But he realizes Athos would rather not reveal which count he was.   
“Should I get some pie, mom?” d’Artagnan asks to lead the conversation in a different direction. For both their sakes. “She recently won a prize with it, you know?” he adds to Athos. And when he comes back into the kitchen, his mom is explaining about the annual farmers market held in Gascony. 

“You’re nervous,” d’Artagnan whispers into Athos’ shoulders as they’re cuddled up in bed a few hours later.   
“I am. People judge me for it, d’Artagnan. Even if they don’t mean to,” Athos sighs.   
“I didn’t. I mean, she is my mom, Athos. Give her some credit.”  
“Yes, and Porthos didn’t either. Yet Flea did and she’s his self-proclaimed sister. That should give her some credit as well.”  
“Flea really bothers you, doesn’t it?” d’Artagnan asks softly.   
“Well.. not really. I can understand why she thinks of me that way. It’s just that.. Well, maybe it does bother me. Because Porthos is really fond of her. And he and Aramis just love the kids. So do I, for that matter. And I always manage to make it awkward to visit, just because she knows who I am,” Athos admits.   
“The fault is on her. But Athos, my mom and Flea don’t come from the same life. I don’t think you have to worry about it. And if for some mysterious reason she decides to make it so, I will be sure to tell her in no uncertain terms that she shouldn’t. But trust me, she’ll welcome you just the same way, no matter who you are,” d’Artagnan promises.   
“I hope you’re right. I certainly don’t hope to make everyone’s visits awkward,” Athos admits. Thomas, the cat, jumps up on the bed with them. D’Artagnan actually startles, because even though he spent so much time with Athos, he never once saw Thomas after that first time.   
“I think your cat is worse than you,” d’Artagnan admits. Athos smiles as he starts stroking between his ears.   
“If you’re referring to him always being gone, he doesn’t like strangers. Live here for a while and he’ll stop disappearing as soon as you enter.”   
“Wait, it’s me? I just thought he was out all the time,” d’Artagnan says in surprise. Cats generally liked him. It never occurred to him that the cat was always running from him, especially considering he saw him on his first visit. Athos actually smirks.   
“No, Thomas has had some bad experience with other people in the past. It’s a miracle you saw him at all before you started living here, because he REALLY doesn’t like people. Two guys managed to get their hands on him. The vet wasn’t even sure if he’d survive at all. He had to remove his left eye for sure and if he did survive but the meds didn’t catch, he’d also have to have his right front paw amputated,” Athos explains.   
“That’s awful!”  
“Yeah, it really was. He was just barely past a kitten then, too. It taught him to evade humans as much as possible. I mean, I had told Porthos and Aramis I had a cat that was afraid of other people. And Aramis met Thomas relatively quick, after only two months of living together-“  
“He managed to evade someone you were living with for two months? Did you even see him at all?” d’Artagnan once again asks in surprise.   
“Well, yes. Because I was home all day and Porthos and Aramis had to work. Porthos actually completely forgot I had a cat by the time he finally revealed himself after close to five months,” Athos admits.   
“Wow. That’s.. that explains why I’d only seen him once before.”  
“Certainly. I think it’s quite fast as it is,” Athos says with a small smile.   
“Will he shy away if I touch him?” Athos shrugs.   
“I don’t know. He’s gotten more used to people other than me touching him. He likes Porthos, even. But you’d have to try to make sure.” D’Artagnan reaches out and holds his hand in front of Thomas first, letting him have the chance to make it clear he doesn’t want to be touched first. He shies away a little, but then sniffs experimentally. And then he cautiously allows d’Artagnan to stroke between his ears like Athos had been doing.   
“You’re a cat person, aren’t you?” Athos asks.   
“Well, I’ve never had a cat, because my mom’s allergic and my dorm didn’t permit pets, but generally yeah, I really like cats. And generally they seem to like me enough,” d’Artagnan shrugs, retreating his arm. He can tell Thomas is nervous about the touch, so he doesn’t want to overdo it. Athos’ hand easily comes back to replace his and Thomas relaxes a little. 

It’s nearly a week later, when Athos has joined him in the bookshop again, and there’s a customer buying a book, that the register officially decides he no longer wants to work. He manages to crank it open far enough that he can give the change, but there’s no way he can fix that.   
Athos, who’s gone to see if Treville had time to look at it, comes back in and d’Artagnan is about to ask if he’d be there when he sees Treville walking in behind his lover.   
“It lasted longer than usual this time,” Treville remarks.   
“Yes. Admittedly this guy and the other two have been distracting me from actually opening and closing the shop at the appointed times. So the recreational customers have been a bit low,” d’Artagnan admits a little sheepishly, Athos, standing behind Treville so he can’t see, smirks broadly and Treville himself laughs.   
“I’d noticed. Congratulations on that, by the way. Now, let me check that thing out,” he says and then walks over and does some technical stuff. D’Artagnan goes to make tea and fetch some of his mom’s cake, ‘leftovers from yesterday’, if he should believe her to repay the favour.   
“Tea’s ready,” he announces when he comes back in. He’s fairly surprised when Treville and Athos are already talking to each other, the register being left untouched. But he doesn’t mind, so he just sits down in Athos’ lap (he only has two chairs) and hands them both their tea and a piece of cake.   
“I’m sorry, d’Artagnan, but unless you call in a professional about this, you’ll have to buy a new one. This is beyond the abilities of a recreational hobbyist,” Treville tells him. D’Artagnan feels his face fall.  
“Mh. Well, it had to happen sooner or later. I think a new one might be better than having to call in a professional at this point, considering I don’t think there’s any nearby?” he ends it in a question, knowing Treville knows a lot of people. But the man shakes his head.   
“No. I think the closest one is in Dire,” Treville replies. Dire is a considerable town at nearly an hour’s drive from here. Which makes it just a little closer than Paris.   
“Well. I guess I’d better start looking into buying a new one then. Is there a way to make this one functional until it arrives?”   
“I put something in it so you can just slide it open. As long as you don’t tell anyone it won’t be a problem, and in a town like this probably not even if you do tell, but there’s no security on it now. It can just be pulled open.”  
“Mh. Well, that’s enough for now. It can’t possibly be that long until it arrives. And indeed, small town like this. What’s the worst that can happen, right?” d’Artagnan shrugs. They continue drinking their tea after that until Treville eventually announces his break is over and he has to get back unless he wants to become like d’Artagnan. D’Artagnan, on the other hand, stays seated on Athos’ lap still, only shifting so he can hug him a little.   
“Am I a comfortable chair,” he asks and d’Artagnan can hear the smirk in his voice without looking. So he just nods. “Mh. I’m sure.”  
“A little hard though, maybe. I’ma have to feed you more cake,” d’Artagnan teases, one hand sliding under Athos’ blouse and caressing the six-pack hiding there. Athos shifts a little.   
“I happen to know Porthos would just make me train more. Trust me, you’re lucky he hasn’t gone to give you your workout scheme yet,” Athos says. And indeed, even in Porthos absence, Athos obligingly did his exercises. D’Artagnan wasn’t completely sure why he did so, for a guy who was quite built he seemed to care awfully little about it, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to complain. All three of his boyfriends had a nice built because of it, with Aramis and Athos looking more like models and Porthos quite larger considering his profession.  
“Mh. I couldn’t look muscular anyway. I’ve tried,” he admits. “Throughout high school and university, I tried very hard to build some muscle. You know, get the pretty guys and gals. I never got more than lean though, even when I adjusted my food.”   
“Aren’t you an unlucky bastard then?” Athos teases with a smirk.


	18. When the cat is away...

D’Artagnan wakes up two weeks into his other boyfriend’s absence to an empty bed. Frowning and looking up he sees Athos getting ready. More-so, rather than Athos getting ready on normal occasions, he’s all dressed up in that fancy suit of his and looking well-groomed. He’d knocked something over, which was the cause of d’Artagnan waking up.   
“Athos? What on earth are you doing?” d’Artagnan asked and Athos turned around to face him.   
“My apologies. I didn’t mean to wake you. My uncle called earlier this morning, apparently there’s something of an emergency with the company which requires my presence,” Athos explains. D’Artagnan gives Athos his most effective pout.  
“How on earth do I get to have three boyfriends and still have to spend today alone. It’s Sunday, so I can’t even open up the shop and do something useful,” d’Artagnan complains. Athos smirks.   
“There’s plenty of pictures of us lying around. I’m sure you can use those instead.”   
“Athos!” d’Artagnan exclaims. He still wasn’t completely used to people speaking so freely about sex, even though Athos certainly had no qualms about it. His smirk only grows though.   
“I will assess whether or not it will take more than one day to fix it today, but I will be back tonight regardless,” Athos turns slightly more serious before he pecks d’Artagnan’s cheek.   
“Athos! You can’t leave me alone,” d’Artagnan complains. But Athos only winks at him before he continues getting ready and, half an hour later, leaves the apartment. He apps Ninon and Constance whether they have any plans today. He gets a response relatively quickly, saying that both of them weren’t available until the evening, Constance having to work and Ninon planning to visit her mother (which was very rare and not something d’Artagnan wanted to get in the way of).

D’Artagnan and Athos call Aramis and Porthos every evening through skype. Usually it’s about how Aramis has found a new favourite place in London and how Porthos’ training sessions have gone, though there are rare occasions where either d’Artagnan or, even rarer, Athos has done something worth telling about.   
However, this time d’Artagnan calls them in the morning, because he’s feeling lonely. God-damn, he really isn’t used to being alone anymore. These three men had ruined his being able to be alone. Fortunately Aramis picks up.   
“’Mis,” d’Artagnan exclaims.   
“Hey d’Art,” Aramis exclaims just as excitedly.   
“Got any sights to see today?” d’Artagnan asks. He keeps wondering how Aramis doesn’t run out, but he keeps finding new things.   
“I was meeting up with an old friend of mine, Marsac. He moved here a few years ago, and he’d been on a holiday himself before, so we finally get to meet up today. And you, got any plans?”  
“Not until tonight, unfortunately. Athos needed to go to the company and the others couldn’t earlier. I’m not used to being alone anymore,” d’Artagnan pouts. “Where’s Porthos anyway?”  
“He’s already out, his training starts pretty early. Why did he have to go to the company?” Aramis raises a brow.   
“I don’t know, he just said something about going today and assessing whether or not he’d have to go tomorrow as well,” d’Artagnan shrugs, before Aramis looks even more confused. “That’s not normal, apparently?” Aramis shakes his head.   
“No, he doesn’t usually have to do anything for it and if he does, it can usually be handled from home. In the three years we’ve been together I can count the amount of times he’s been at the company to work on one hand,” Aramis explains.   
“Well, he did say it was some kind of emergency. But he didn’t sound very worried, so I figured it wasn’t that big of a deal,” d’Artagnan offers. Aramis still looks pensive, but he shrugs it off.   
“Well, in that case, I wish you the best of luck today, lovely. Who knows, maybe you’ll resent us for never leaving you alone after spending so much time alone today,” Aramis chuckles.   
“Mh, very doubtful. I’m already bored,” d’Artagnan jokes. It’s not quite that extreme, fortunately. God, he’d be screwed if it was.   
“Am I so boring to you? Good to know,” Aramis pulls a face.   
“Well, actually…” he winks. Aramis’ face worsens.   
“Well, fuck you then,” Aramis voices.   
“Okay. See you in an hour?” Aramis laughs.   
“I wish. But no, we’ll have to be here quite a bit longer,” he says. “Besides, I’m supposed to be getting ready, I’m meeting Marsac in less than an hour and still in my PJ’s.”  
“Well go on then, change. It’s not as if I haven’t seen you naked before,” d’Artagnan wriggles his eyebrows for extra effect.   
“Ha-ha. Very funny,” Aramis says, though he does look amused enough. “But I think I’ll pass. I’ll call you tonight though to make sure you haven’t died of boredom.”  
“Mh, good to know you care.”  
“Well, no, but otherwise the apartment is going to smell like hell when I get back,” Aramis sticks out his tongue and d’Artagnan rolls his eyes.   
“Love you too, ‘Mis.”  
“I do love you. Very much,” Aramis winks before shutting down the call. 

D’Artagnan is basically exploring the apartment for the first time after having watched television for two hours after that. It was a remarkably large apartment of which he basically only has seen the living room, bathroom, the kitchen and the one bedroom they use.   
He starts with the hall, which he obviously already knew with the toilet to the left and the living room straight ahead. There was another door on the right and when he’d asked what was behind it he’d been told it was a broom-closet, but he hadn’t actually looked in. Now he did. It was a broom closet. Without brooms for that sake. So that was remarkably boring.   
In the living room are three doors, one back to the hall and one to the other hall that would lead upstairs. On one side is their living room, which d’Artagnan had gotten to know well, and on the other side the kitchen, which d’Artagnan had gotten to know even better considering Aramis and Porthos had been gone two weeks already and Athos wasn’t allowed in.   
The third door he’d never been in, and he decided to see what was behind it now. He checked to see if it could open first, considering there was a lock on it, but it budged without problem and he opened the door to see.. his mouth just about dropped open realizing this had been there without his knowing of it.   
Behind the door was a.. well, he supposed it could be called a bathroom. Except with a bath the size of a small pool and a Jacuzzi of roughly the same size. D’Artagnan decided he would definitely make use of that if he was going to be alone the rest of the day anyhow, but he was first going to discover the rest of the house. He wasn’t going to find out they had.. a trapeze room for instance when Aramis decided to play tricks on him. There was a second door in this room, which led to a toilet. Not that interesting.  
So he goes upstairs. The door on the right, he already knew, was the ‘normal’ bathroom. The door across the stairs, he also knew, was their bedroom. There were three more doors. One led to an empty room. Another one led to a room nearly as large as their bedroom, which Porthos apparently made their private little gym (d’Artagnan finally understands why Athos and Aramis would come in looking as if they worked out without having left the apartment, d’Artagnan had always just assumed they wanted some 1one 1 sex). He does spare a moment how he could not have noticed that before, considering they all did exercises, before realizing they must usually do it when he’s working.   
The last door leads to a room d’Artagnan knew contained stuff. Sometimes one of them would go in there and come back with toys. What he hadn’t expected was a room full of just toys. Well, not that full, but quite a few more than d’Artagnan thought a single guy could own, let alone guys in a poly relationship. He walks over and studies the items there. Most of them weren’t that extraordinary and shocking. They had cuffs and blindfolds, which obviously d’Artagnan knew already, they’d used them plenty enough, and butt plugs and vibrators and dildos. Some far larger than d’Artagnan knew he could ever fit, considering he sometimes already had trouble with Athos. He knew they must be Aramis’ though, seeing as how he was a classical size-queen.   
There was a sling too though, which d’Artagnan really wondered if it was ever used (none of them had ever said anything that made d’Artagnan think they were into it). And there was a space hopper d’Artagnan was fairly sure was a prank, considering it had a dildo on top. He resolved to try it out regardless, because he did find it very amusing. There was also one thing that d’Artagnan had no idea what it was. Or well, several, but they were all the same thing with different sizes.   
“What on earth are these?” d’Artagnan asks himself as he takes one of them. It’s roughly 6 inches long and very thin. The end of it is slightly thicker, depending on which one you took. Not dildos, they were far too thin for it, but he didn’t know what else it was either, so he decided to bring them to the bedroom to ask Athos when he came home. But first, he was going to take a bath. 

He meets up with Ninon and Constance in the musketeers, letting Athos know he’d gone there in case he returned and wanted to join them.   
“d’Artagnan!” Constance waves him over and he quickly walks there after asking Treville to open a tap for him and ordering some wine.   
“Constance, Ninon!” he greets them, hugging both in turn. “How’s it with Lemay?” he asks quickly. D’Artagnan feels good as he watches Constance’s face turn happy and giddy.   
“It’s great. He’s great. We’re going to Rome for a week next month. To get to know each other better and as a romantic get-away,” Constance replies.   
“Really? That’s great,” d’Artagnan exclaims, hugging her again.   
“Yes, I’m really excited it for it. He’s such a great guy,” Constance sounds dreamy and excited. But then she turned to d’Artagnan instead.   
“And how’s life with you? Aramis and Porthos are still out of town, right?”   
“Yeah, where’s Athos?” Ninon asks. d’Artagnan wasn’t quite sure how, considering everyone else in the city seemed to dislike Athos, but Ninon and she had turned out to be great friends. Then again, he probably shouldn’t be so surprised, the man did have three boyfriends after all.   
“Athos is in Paris, had to arrange some stuff,” he says, “and yes, Aramis and Porthos are still in London. Will be quite some time before they get back as well. Which is definitely unfortunate.”  
“Aww, poor guy,” Constance coos, though d’Artagnan can tell there is some amusement in there. “You don’t sound that put off though.”  
“No, I do get to meet up with my two best friends more in their absence. Having three boyfriends is exhausting,” they both laugh.   
“I’m sure,” Ninon adds with a wink. And d’Artagnan starts laughing too. 

In the end Athos doesn’t join them, and d’Artagnan leaves the musketeers a few hours later to find Athos sitting on the couch reading a book with Thomas in his lap. There’s a second before the cat flees the room and Athos looks up.   
“There you are,” d’Artagnan says, sitting next to him and pecking his cheek. “Why didn’t you join us?”   
“I thought you’d rather like some time with them alone. Besides, I have only returned half an hour ago,” Athos explains. “I was waiting for you, though. I will need to go to Paris tomorrow and remain there for a few days.”   
“Really? Why? Are you going to stay in a hotel?” d’Artagnan asks, not liking the prospect.   
“There seems to be a complicated business with Rochefort. He’s a white-collar criminal who has recently taken an interest in the royal line. Which ultimately leads back to all noble families. He’s trying to ruin all of us unless he gets the same position we have,” Athos sounds pensive. “It’s quite a complicated case, because he isn’t necessarily doing anything explicitly wrong. He’s only demanding something, which isn’t illegal. However, he is manipulating Louis, who is the count of the royal line and trying to manipulate Anne, the count of the Spanish line which is illegal. But he does it in such a way they haven’t been able to prove it, yet.” And then Athos seems to focus on the present again. D’Artagnan barely refrains from keeping a laugh to himself.   
“Are you staying in a hotel?” d’Artagnan repeats his earlier question. Athos looks at him strangely.   
“Why would I be staying in a hotel?”   
“You said you’d remain in Paris. I had been assuming that meant nights as well,” d’Artagnan explains. Athos’ look doesn’t change.   
“Yes?”  
“Then where will you stay? Sleep on the streets?”   
“I have a house in Paris,” Athos says as if it’s plain as day.   
“You.. I didn’t know you had a house in Paris,” d’Artagnan protests.   
“Where did you think I lived while we were still living in Paris?” d’Artagnan is about to retort when he realizes some things aren’t quite as normal to Athos as they are to other people, considering the way he was raised. To Athos, money wasn’t important. He did however have so much of it that Athos often didn’t realize it could be done a cheaper way.   
“Athos, most people sell their houses after they move. I had assumed you no longer owned the house you lived in,” d’Artagnan explains.   
“Aramis and Porthos never sold their apartment when they moved in, I don’t think.”  
“They probably didn’t own it. Most apartments are rented. They probably just ended their contract,” d’Artagnan explains.  
“I suppose so,” Athos says after he realizes he has no idea. D’Artagnan rolls his eyes with a chuckle.   
“Rich guys,” he mock-sighs. Athos shoves his shoulder for that before pulling him in for a hug. “But could I come to Paris with you? I don’t want to live here alone,” and sure enough, Athos nods. Not that d’Artagnan expected differently. “Could I also come with you to the company one time? I’m curious to know what it actually is that you do,” d’Artagnan asks with his best puppy-eyes expression.   
“You may, though I think I should warn you. Both Aramis and Porthos have decided I have the most boring job in the universe,” d’Artagnan chuckles. “Speaking about whom, I think we may have missed our chance to skype them,” Athos says as he eyes the clock. Porthos having to train early also meant that he went to bed at 10 in the evening.   
“Then we’ll have to do that tomorrow. Come on, let’s we go to bed too,” d’Artagnan says, climbing off the couch and dragging Athos along after him. He takes off his clothes as soon as he is in the bedroom. Athos had discarded of most of his clothes already, having hung them in the living room, because the man thought suits were highly uncomfortable, so he only had to take off his trousers and slide into bed.   
“Have you been playing dirty games, after all?” he asks just when d’Artagnan unbuttons the shirt he’d been wearing. He turns around at the questioning tone of his boyfriend and sees Athos holding the box.   
“Actually, no. I was exploring the house when I found them. What on earth are these?” d’Artagnan asks. Athos opens the case.   
“These are rosebud sounds,” Athos says, looking at d’Artagnan to see his still blank face. “They are meant for urethral penetration,” he explains clinically. D’Artagnan frowns.   
“You put them in your penis?” he translates.   
“In crude terms, yes,” Athos replies with a small smile.   
“And that’s pleasant?” d’Artagnan asks, sounding doubtful. He’d been curious about a lot of things and had thought he knew most toys. Yet he’d never really imagined shoving something down his penis and expecting pleasure from it. Though, an interest was most certainly sparked now that someone had given him the idea.  
“It rather depends on the person, stronger than with most other toys. Aramis doesn’t dislike it, but he doesn’t specifically like it either. Porthos certainly dislikes it.”  
“And you?” Athos raises a brow.   
“I thought you had brains but clearly not. If neither Porthos nor Aramis like it, who do you think bought them?” and d’Artagnan is burning with desire to know how it goes, how it feels, but he also glares at Athos for that. But, when Athos doesn’t make any start on showing d’Artagnan, he realizes he’s going to have to ask.   
“Can you show me?” d’Artagnan asks, finally. And Athos gives him the most innocent-looking smile in the world before he takes one of the sounds and lube. He’s not hard, but apparently that’s not necessary, for he simply lubes the tip of the sound and puts some lube on his slit before he starts.  
D’Artagnan is quite enthralled, if he is honest with himself, as he watches Athos dip the sound in just the tiniest bit before pulling it back out and repeating the process, dipping in a little more every time until the bud is entirely inserted into his head. D’Artagnan can’t help a small moan, even from watching, and is extremely curious as to how it feels. But he wants to experience this first. Athos then continues to bring it down further very slowly. D’Artagnan is wrapped up in watching, especially when he notices he can see it going down.  
“How does it feel?” d’Artagnan wonders. Athos continues to bring it down, all the way down to his base, before he pauses with his sound and looks at d’Artagnan. And d’Artagnan has seen Athos aroused and pleasured before, but this is different. There’s something in his face, in his eyes, that d’Artagnan HAS to try for himself.   
“Exquisite,” he voices, and then clarifies. “It feels very full, though rather different from anal penetration. This is.. it forces you to focus on it. To feel it with your very core. It is why so many don’t particularly like it, because it isn’t always pleasant, certainly not in the start or when you start out too big,” Athos explains. And then he starts moving the sound up and down and d’Artagnan is so hard, from the way Athos looks, the way he can see the bud moving inside, inside!, Athos’ shaft, the silent gasps and intakes of breaths from Athos.  
And then he takes it out, and d’Artagnan wants to scream, wants him to continue, but Athos’ face doesn’t allow for it and he is the specialist in this. So instead, he watches as Athos takes out the sound that was next to the one he was currently using and d’Artagnan notices this bud is bigger. The other one had been the fourth in the box. And d’Artagnan gathered there must be a reason why there are 12 in one case, because one didn’t usually buy 12 dildos in the same case.   
Athos started the process anew, though faster this time, and again d’Artagnan was wrapped up in a haze as he watched Athos pleasure himself with the sound. And once again, he took it out and took the next one from the box. D’Artagnan looked at the other ones in there now that Athos hadn’t started it over again yet, and noted with a certain amount of shock the biggest one in there.   
“Is there anyone who uses that one? Willingly?” d’Artagnan asks. He himself had below average girth, especially considering his penis was rather longer than average, so maybe he was a little biased, but it seemed almost as big as his penis himself.   
“I cannot imagine there are many who use it, no,” Athos replies, busying himself with applying new lube. “There are few who like it at all, after all. It can get quite intense, and it does require a certain amount of girth to be able to apply that one without damaging your urethra.”  
“You sound like an expert,” d’Artagnan remarks and it earns him Athos finally looking up at him, pausing his pleasuring himself.   
“I had to become an expert in a lot of sexual toys and activities when I took on a job of working in a sex shop. Personally, I had heard about this no more than you had before I started. But the idea intrigued me immediately and I dug in further into this. During the years, yes, I suppose I could be called a semi-professional in certain pleasures.”   
“Have you tried this one?” d’Artagnan asks, very curious to hear the answer.   
“In fact, I have. Not often though, I usually prefer to remain with these,” Athos points to the seventh to ninth sounds and d’Artagnan raises a brow.   
“Those are still looking rather big,” he voices. And Athos smirks.   
“I imagine they would be, to you. I have plenty more girth than you, though, so they only make me feel blissfully full,” Athos says and sometimes d’Artagnan forgets how blunt Athos can be. At d’Artagnan’s look the man shrugs. “It’s a simple fact, d’Artagnan, and nothing to be ashamed off. Penis size isn’t everything, you know.”   
“Can I try?” d’Artagnan asks instead of dignifying that with a response. Athos takes out the second one in the box (and d’Artagnan is at least glad it isn’t the smallest one), and lubes it up while instructing d’Artagnan to apply lube to his slit.   
When d’Artagnan is done, Athos lets him sit back against the headboard and d’Artagnan realizes Athos is going to do it to him, rather than doing it himself. It turns him on more, and he can’t help a soft moan of anticipation when Athos first applies the tip to his slit.   
“If it is too much, you do have to tell me. I cannot imagine this bud is too large for you, but as I said before, it is quite an intense feeling that isn’t fully painless,” Athos warns as he dips the entire bud into d’Artagnan’s slit.   
“I will,” d’Artagnan manages, knowing his boyfriend well enough to know he won’t go on until he does. And indeed, Athos starts to descend the sound lower afterwards and d’Artagnan’s hands bury themselves in the blanket, fisting it tightly. It doesn’t feel pleasant, not at all. But before d’Artagnan can express it in words, Athos is easing off.   
“Don’t stop,” d’Artagnan says, afraid Athos will pull it out again. “Just give me a moment to adjust,” and Athos nods his head, holding still and kissing d’Artagnan gently. “I’m good,” he says after sharing a few gentle kisses.   
“Just tell me if we need to stop,” Athos repeats and d’Artagnan nods as Athos continues to ease him into it. And when d’Artagnan’s fists finally relax a little bit, Athos starts to truly pleasure him with the buds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I simply had to put in a piece where d'Artagnan finds rooms he's never seen before, because he's a naive little sweetheart and he's adorable :P


	19. So this is what you do?

D’Artagnan wakes up a little bleary the next morning. Considering Athos had informed him he would need to remain in Paris for the firm a few more days and d’Artagnan had declared he was coming along. After all, Athos got destructive on his own and d’Artagnan was is no mood to be alone either. Not to mention his register is still broken, and ordering a new one apparently took forever, which is why he’d been planning on going to Paris sometime this week anyhow.   
“So, why again do you have to be there?” d’Artagnan asks once he’s awake enough to be conscious but still sleepy enough to hate Athos for it.   
“I’m sure you’ve heard of Rochefort?” d’Artagnan nods, of course he did. The news was full of the jerk. Some white-collar criminal cashing up on several different people, including old men and women both and using their demented state to write their wills to his name. “I’ve been put in charge of getting him out of France.”  
“Why not just in jail?” d’Artagnan yawns before grabbing his toothbrush.  
“Because, my love, he is not technically doing anything illegal. Immoral, yes, undesirable, without a doubt but illegal,” Athos shakes his head.   
“What? That’s legal?” d’Artagnan turns around suddenly, managing to hit Athos’ cheek with his toothbrush because the man had managed to sneak up on him.   
“If there are no laws against it, it is a legal. There is no law that prohibits people from using another person’s health for their benefit. It was hardly ever needed before,” Athos says, stealing d’Artagnan’s toothbrush and putting it in his own mouth. “This has no toothpaste on it. Give me the tube,” he demands. D’Artagnan sighs and rolls his eyes but hands the tube over anyway before ducking under Athos’ arm and putting his shoes on.   
“That’s awful. Then how are you going to stop him?” Athos glances at him through the mirror.   
“Chase him out of France,” he says and he finishes brushing his teeth before he rinses and turns around. “Every nobleman has jurisdiction over a certain area in France. I have to make sure he is not allowed to set foot into the de la Fere districts.”   
“Why do you have to do that anyway? I thought your uncle handles everything,” he remembers his conversation with Aramis, who had been extremely surprised. Porthos had resorted to Whatsapping d’Artagnan over their private chat to ask if everything was okay. Which in d’Artagnan’s mind equals bad news.  
“Usually, he does. I’ve declared he was allowed to ‘rule’ in my stead. However, until the day that I die the title of Comte cannot be written over to any other person. Usually, there is no special jurisdiction needed to carry out the firm’s functions, but in this case, my uncle does not have the power to execute such a command.”  
“So, the person who you need to arrange it with, they’ll know you’re still alive. I mean, you did just about fake your own death,” d’Artagnan points out.  
“To the media, yes. Other noble families as well as the judges who decide over these matters know that I am still alive.” D’Artagnan doesn’t like it much more, despite those words, but he shrugs and follows Athos anyway. Athos has a hard time of coaxing Tom into his travel-cage with d’Artagnan there, but he does manage and they put their stuff into the car and drive off.

He stays at Athos’ firm for the first day, after having asked if he could, because he was curious. Athos was amused, considering both Porthos and Aramis thought his job must have been the most boring job in the world.   
“Well, I mean, it has one benefit,” d’Artagnan had said when Athos had told d’Artagnan their opinions. Athos raises a brow. “You are home most of the day. Which, y’know, is nice,” he adds with a wink. Athos had smiled before pecking d’Artagnan’s cheek and continuing.   
He’s finally done for the day though and after they went on another hellish campaign to get Tom back into the cage, they get to the car before Athos drives through the city.   
“I used to live over there,” d’Artagnan murmurs when they drive near where the university had been situated. He had the luxury of not having to take one of the standard dorm-rooms, allowing for more breathing place. In fact, his student room had not been much smaller than the one he currently lived in.   
“Not on campus? Don’t tell Aramis, he might make you go back to university just to ‘get a taste of the experience’,” Athos warns him with an amused smile playing around his lips. D’Artagnan chuckles.  
“Noted. God, I can’t wait for them to come home,” d’Artagnan whines, burying himself deeper into his seat. Athos’ eyes remain on the road but his right hand moves to d’Artagnan’s thigh. In a comforting gesture instead of a suggestive one for once.   
“I miss them as well. Only two more weeks though,” d’Artagnan nods, taking Athos’ hand in his.   
“Yeah, I know. And we get to watch Porthos kick people’s asses,” d’Artagnan jokes. Athos lets out a huff of laughter.   
“That too. That’s always a joy,” Athos takes his hand back to be able to park the car and d’Artagnan gets out easily, taking their bags while Athos takes Tom’s cage. D’Artagnan walks in easily as Athos holds the door open.  
“Not always a guy for modest apartments, huh?” d’Artagnan observes. Athos gives him a glare, but d’Artagnan ignores it with a chuckle. “Didn’t see you for the type, to be fair.”   
“I used to be very different,” Athos admits, letting Tom free, who immediately flees the room. Athos comes over to him and pulls him along as he sits on the couch, making d’Artagnan land on top of him. “My father was.. he might have been the complete reason for the aristocrat stereotype. He was responsible for keeping Thomas and I as far away from the ‘civilised rats’ as possible. I did not know differently than what he had taught me until I met my wife,” he visibly pales at the mere mention. “When I lost them all, however, I finally discovered what France was really like and it changed me.”  
“So this is where you lived with your wife?”  
“No!” it comes out very defensively and d’Artagnan holds up his hands in a calming gesture. “I am sorry. No, I did not live here with her. We lived in a villa just outside of Paris. This was the house I had intended to live in, but she disliked it so much that she never set more than two steps inside. I never sold it, because I did not see a reason to do so and I was very happy about that when I could no longer live in the house she had lived in,” Athos’ head makes a minute movement and the next thing he’s smiling softly. “Not to mention that Aramis most certainly loved it when he moved in,” d’Artagnan has to laugh about that.   
“I can imagine. Speaking of whom, come on, we can unpack later,” d’Artagnan rushes to one of the bags that contains his laptop and quickly fires it up and starts skype.   
“Hello my lovers,” Porthos greets them with a large, happy smile.   
“Good evening, my love,” Athos says at the same time as d’Artagnan’s:  
“Hey honey.” It had started as a joke from him and Aramis, but they had continued to do so and it felt very natural now to call them by their joke-names. Porthos was honey, Athos was sugar and Aramis was sweetie. D’Artagnan had protested against his own name, which for some reason was pup. “Where’s sweetie?”  
“In the shower, my sweet little pup.”  
“Without you?” Athos sounds unamused. “Isn’t that a shame. Would have loved the show.”  
“Who says we would have showed you?” Porthos counters. Athos snorts.  
“As if either of you could resist riling us up,” at this, Porthos cocks his head in acknowledgement.   
“Well, that just might be true,” he looks back for a second, “Aramis will be joining us in a sec, I think.”  
“He’d better,” d’Artagnan chimes in. Porthos chuckles. “Are you ready? We’re totally ready to see you kicking some ass,” d’Artagnan says. Tomorrow’s the day the European Wrestling Championship was about to start. Porthos didn’t have a game straight away, he had to wait until the day after tomorrow, but d’Artagnan is very excited nonetheless.   
“I think I am. Ready as I’m ever going to be anyway,” Porthos shrugs, but his smile is confident enough.   
“I know you are, love. Any less than a gold medal and I will personally make sure they have to take a drug-test,” Athos says, half joking. They both chuckle at just the moment Aramis walks up as well. He’s wearing only a pair of sweats and d’Artagnan whistles appreciatively.   
“Really, pup? I thought you’d seen more of me than just this,” Aramis laughs as he sits down.   
“Yes, but then, you’ve been gone for so long already. I forgot what you look like,” d’Artagnan responds with a pout. Aramis rolls his eyes with a grand smile and Porthos smirks.   
“Bet you didn’t forget what I looked like though. I mean, if you have to choose to remember me or ‘Mis. Well, all I know is, I’m not blaming you,” he winks and Aramis punches him, which makes him laugh some more before wrapping Aramis in his arms.   
“Uh-uh. You keep believing that, boyfriend. Just you wait,” d’Artagnan winks, making a lovey-dovey face at Aramis at the same time. It makes Porthos pout and Aramis laugh.   
“Well, I’m Athos’ favourite anyway,” Porthos then huffs. And Athos doesn’t respond, but he does wink suggestively. 

“Athos, I swear if you don’t come and sit on the couch within now and two fucking seconds I will tie you up,” d’Artagnan says, hovering in front of the TV. In a few minutes Porthos would be there, with his first game of the championship. And d’Artagnan should hope he’s more nervous than his boyfriends, because otherwise it’s bound to be a very, very tense evening.   
Athos walks into the living room leisurely, bringing with him two glasses of wine and the bottle and setting them down on the table. He takes one look at d’Artagnan and then huffs a breath, walking up to his youngest boyfriend and wrapping his arms around the boy from behind.   
“I bet you would like me all tied up,” Athos whispers and d’Artagnan shivers a little despite himself. If Athos thinks he’s missing this for sex then he’s very wrong. “But, as a matter of fact, I think we should watch the game instead. Now come and sit down with me, d’Artagnan. Neither of us will be able to pay attention to the TV with you pacing like a madman,” d’Artagnan scowls but he does let Athos lead him to the couch and push the glass into his hands.   
“How can you not be nervous? It’s Porthos! And it’s the freaking European Championship!” Athos smiles softly and puts one hand on d’Artagnan’s shoulder, pulling him into the older man’s lap.   
“Yes, it is. But I have been with Porthos for over five years now. I was there for the previous European championship as well as the World’s and the Olympics. Trust Porthos, d’Artagnan. He’s a wickedly good wrestler and he has more to lose than most of those wrestlers. He will do well, he’s just that good,” Athos explains. And d’Artagnan’s face pales and Athos looks at him worriedly.   
“Oh god. God, I’m the worst boyfriend ever. I hadn’t.. I hadn’t even thought that this probably wasn’t his first championship. How did he do on the others? Were you there for the first one? Or was he already a professional when you got together?” d’Artagnan is focused on Athos now, after making sure Porthos wasn’t up just yet.   
“You’re not a bad boyfriend, d’Artagnan. You’re a lot younger than us, so it’s understandable that you didn’t consider his experience. Besides, I think everyone forgets things like these. After all, it is not exactly common to be dating a professional sportsman. But, to answer your questions, he did very well on the World championship, he got silver, and he got gold on the Olympics and the previous European championships. But no, those weren’t his first ones. Neither me, nor Aramis, who has been with him for two years longer than I have, were there for his first ones. I think he did the World championships three times now, the first one he was fifth, the time after that fourth, and then the last one silver, as I said. The Olympics three times as well, the first one he was fifth as well, the time after that silver and then the last ones gold. And these are his second European championships.”  
“Why 2? Shouldn’t it be 3 as well?” d’Artagnan asks as he calculates.   
“He was injured for what would be his first, not allowing him to join the competition in risk of damaging his knee permanently,” d’Artagnan nods, taking the information to him. It actually did help a lot in making him less nervous. For all that he admired the way Porthos moved and wrestled whenever he saw the man, and for all the muscle that he had experienced first-hand, he never really had considered that Porthos must’ve been quite successful before. But of course, Porthos was nearing his thirties. Of course these weren’t his first games.   
“I still feel bad for not having thought of it before. I should have asked him about it,” d’Artagnan mumbles. And Athos cards his fingers through d’Artagnan’s hair, not responding. Athos would have asked about it. Not only was he the eldest, being 34, but also was he much more considerate than d’Artagnan. And Aramis would have asked as well. Even if Aramis wouldn’t have had the age of being only two years younger than Athos on his side, he would have pried every piece of information out of his boyfriend. There were very few things Aramis didn’t know about d’Artagnan either, while d’Artagnan basically didn’t know much about any of his boyfriends.   
“The game is starting, d’Artagnan,” Athos warns him. And d’Artagnan banishes his thoughts to watch the telly. Indeed, Porthos is looking all mighty, strong and still beautiful on one side, with another on the other side. He listens as the presenter talks.   
“Match between Porthos duValle on the left side,” he trails off for a moment while a round of applause sounds, d’Artagnan eagerly joining in despite the hundreds of miles between them. “And on the right side, Theo Smiths,” he continues and d’Artagnan boos as eagerly as he cheered before. Though as soon as they start, he shuts up and sits up, on the very edge of the couch, eager to see what happens.


End file.
